


Line of Sight

by subcutaneous7



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-11 03:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13515951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subcutaneous7/pseuds/subcutaneous7
Summary: Sometimes everything has to fall apart before you can put it back together the way it should be. Picks up right after Season 4. Femslash.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My little contribution to the post Season 4 fics. The more I rewatch, the clearer it gets that these two are headed for something even more beautiful than they already share. In the meantime, here's what I'd like to see. Hoping to add two more chapters (eventual M). Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy!

Frankie’s hand was sticky. Her fingers were chilled to the bone, even as the afternoon sun beat down on them. Grace imagined it must have been from that grape popsicle she swiped back at the retirement village before they fled, though it could have been from anything. The build up of sunscreen caked to the arm of her chair, the glass of lemonade she’d spilled on the counter that morning, the butterscotch candies she kept melting in her pockets. But none of that mattered now. Grace would have gladly sat there holding Frankie’s sticky, clammy hand forever, stroking the veins that popped up beneath her skin like tributes to her favorite painting, thawing each knuckle with the pad of her thumb. They could stay there, just like this, at least until the sun went down, or the seagulls started to pick at their bodies, whichever came first.

 _This isn’t the end_ , she told herself, feeling the spark of determination ignite again, fueled by the anger she felt towards their kids, by her refusal to accept what was looming just a few dozen yards behind them. All the rot and sawdust, the empty rooms that would never mean as much to anyone as they did to the two women sitting on the beach, running from their problems like Thelma & Louise.

“What do we do now?” Frankie’s voice carried softly on the wind.

“I don't know yet,” Grace swallowed, squeezing her hand a little tighter.

“I hear you,” Frankie nodded. “But Grace, we've been sitting here close to an hour, and if I don't get up soon my hips won't work the way I need them to, and I won't be able to help you up either, and before you know it the seagulls will start circling…”

“Alright. Just...give me a minute.”

 _God, I’m even starting to think like her_ , Grace sighed. It was fucking terrifying, but still better than the alternative.

She scooted to the edge of the turquoise adirondack chair, and Frankie let out a grunt as she pushed her way to standing, giant clogs kicking through the sand. Grace grabbed her hand again as she allowed herself to be pulled up, and they continued to hold each other as they began the long shuffle towards the beach house.

“Wait,” Frankie spoke, but kept moving. “Where are we going?”

“Where do you think?” Grace answered. “Home.”

“But the sign says…”

“I don’t care what the sign says, this is still our home. And until someone tells me otherwise, to my face, I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that sign.”

“But the construction isn’t even finished, is it? And the rats? Do we know if they got all the rats? Because I don’t think I have it in me to play another round of capture the rodent from the dining room table. Although I did find myself getting a bit attached to Victor.”

“We’ll go to the studio then,” Grace huffed, locking her arm around Frankie’s elbow. “You still have that key under the gnome next to the door, right?”

“He’s an elf, but yes. It should still be there.”

“Good. Let’s ask him to grant our wish then.”

“Elves don’t grant wishes, Grace. You’re thinking of a genie.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to make small talk to distract us from how far this walk feels all of a sudden.”

“Small talk? Is that a disparaging remark about elves? I didn’t peg you as ableist, Grace, especially not in your condition.”

“Frankie...”

“Kidding,” Frankie assured. “Kidding.”

By the time they got to the door of the studio, Grace was so out of breath she had to lean over and rest her hands on her thighs, let her head hang between her knees to regroup. Frankie’s fingers swept soothingly along her spine, landing between her shoulder blades, rubbing gentle, encouraging circles. Grace closed her eyes, swallowing hard before willing herself to lift up the tiny gentleman with the red hat and steal the treasure beneath his feet, pleasantly surprised it was still there. It could have been at the bottom of the pool given Frankie’s track record.

Once they were inside, Grace found her way to the pleather sofa and plopped down heavily, thankful they’d left behind some of their furniture. Frankie flit around the room, checking other secret hiding spots for well-preserved contraband, until she pulled something from the wall by the window.

“What’s that?” Grace asked.

“Housewarming gift I left for future residents,” Frankie grinned, twirling the long, fat joint between her fingers.

“Ah, very nice,” Grace smiled. “Do you have a lighter?”

“I do,” Frankie whipped one out of her pocket like a magic trick, taking her spot next to Grace. “You didn’t really think I’d let those losers at that geriatric prison steal all the goods, did you?”

“No, of course not. But we haven’t smoked since we’ve been there, so…”

“ _You_ haven’t smoked. I didn’t want to get you in trouble. Plus I thought one of us should keep our wits about us in case we needed to escape.”

“And you thought that should be me?” Grace rolled her eyes, stealing the lit cylinder from Frankie’s lips, bringing it to her own.

“That is your m.o., typically, yes,” Frankie beamed, letting the smoke fill the air as she laughed it from her lungs. “You mad at me?”

“No,” Grace shook her head, taking another toke before passing it back, turning to face her partner in crime. “Not for a second.”

“Really?”

“Well, maybe half a second. But I’m too happy right now to stay mad.”

“Good,” Frankie rested her head on Grace’s shoulder. “We can live out our lives here as squatters. Maybe the new owners won’t notice.”

“Maybe they won’t notice a whole guest house next to the main house? Are you kidding?”

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m trying to stick to whatever plan you’ve cooked up, which by the way, you’ve yet to share with me. I’m go with the flow, Grace. You’re the brains behind this escapade. I’ll gladly let you take the reins.”

“That would typically be music to my ears,” Grace breathed. She was always impressed by how much faith Frankie had in her, despite her own level of fear and inebriation. “But I haven’t the slightest clue where we’re headed, I’m afraid."

“So long as we don’t go back,” Frankie shook her head, latching on to Grace’s arm more firmly. “I mean it. I can’t go back to that place. It was sucking the life out of me faster than a Celine Dion concert. I can’t do it.”

“We won’t go back,” Grace agreed.

“I mean it. We can leave our stuff behind. It’s just stuff. We’ll get new stuff in Mexico, or New Zealand, wherever we decide to hideout.”

“We’re not hiding out, Frankie. We just have to make it clear that place isn’t for us. If we can’t stay here, which I’m not ruling out yet, we’ll find someplace else. So long as we’re together and we can run our business and live our lives however we want, that’s where we’ll be. Alright?”

“You make it sound so easy. What about…”

“Aha!” Brianna flung open the door, her sister and step-brothers in toe. “See, told you. And getting high, no less. Without me. What were you...”

“Mom, what the hell were you thinking?!” Mallory shouted.

“Yes, I, too, would love to know,” Bud crossed his arms.

“What was I thinking?” Grace ached as she stood, wincing only slightly at the boost Frankie gave as she palmed her whole ass with her whole hand. “What were you all thinking when you put us in that place? Did you really think we wouldn’t figure it out eventually?”

“Uh, we didn’t put you anywhere,” Coyote defended. “You both agreed to…”

“You lied!” Grace exclaimed, face burning. “You forced us to give up our independence under false pretenses.”

“I don't think you're in a position to argue. You stole a golf cart and almost ran over a security guard,” Bud reminded.

“No we did not,” Frankie finally stood. “Tony’s always exaggerating. Like when he told management I was grilling cactuses out on our back porch. It was a bowl burning ceremony. He wouldn’t know what phase the moon was in if it fell out of the sky and smacked him in his enormous misshapen head.”

“But you _did_ steal the cart,” Mallory insisted. “You have to go back.”

“No we don’t, and you can’t make us,” Grace squared her shoulders. “We aren’t invalids yet. We both have full control of our faculties, despite what this one might lead you to believe. You have zero say over what we do or don't do.”

“Well you can’t stay here,” Bud told them. “You don’t live here anymore. It isn’t safe.”

“Don't you think we know that!?” Frankie cried. “We know it isn't safe, but we’d rather live in this filth than die in that sterile tomb you had us living in. You might as well have cut off all my hair and forced me to wear Coldwater Creek for Christ’s sake. That place is not for me. No, sir. And it's not for Grace either, although she did fit in slightly better given her wardrobe.”

“Look, I get it, mom,” Coyote stepped forward. “But you already gave the green light for Bud to put the house on the market.”

“Yeah, well, that was a genuinely stupid decision,” Frankie graveled, throat going dry. “I've regretted it every second since we did it, and now it's too late.”

“What do you mean?” Mallory’s face dropped.

“The sign says it's sold,” Grace shared. “Or didn't you know that already?”

“The realtor must have made a deal earlier today,” Bud blinked, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I haven't checked the app in a couple hours...oh, wait, yep. Says right here. Sold. To a guy named Nick Skolka.”

“Jesus fucking eyebrows!” Frankie gasped, taking a step backwards. “Grace, he...what does that…”

“What’s a Nick Skolka?” Coyote asked.

“He’s my...man friend,” Grace cleared her throat, feeling herself go pale. “Or was anyway. I can't believe he...why would he…”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Frankie rolled her eyes as she paced, running her fingers up and down the shingles on the wall, like she was afraid it would slip away again if she stopped fidgeting.

“This has to be some kind of mistake,” Mallory shook her head. “You guys can't move back in. You'll just end up having the same problems you did before, or worse. Things aren't going to get any easier.”

“Thank you, Mallory, for that grossly morbid assessment,” Grace narrowed her eyes. “But this isn't your decision. It's none of your…”

"This is ridiculous,” Brianna cut her off. “You guys made your choice. This is wrong."

“No, what's wrong is you manipulating us into rushing into things just so you can take us off your to do lists!  Just so you could make your lives easier. None of this is easy. All of it’s hard, but you’ve made it way worse.”

“Hold on…”

“No,” Grace seethed, stalking towards them, forcing them to retreat despite how cheerful her lemon yellow shirt made her look. “I think you've done enough for today, thank you. We’ll figure this out on our own. Just leave us.”

“This is insane,” Bud argued. “Here we were, trying to do something _nice_ for the two of you. And for mom. Oh, congratulations by the way! You're alive again! We were planning a surprise back at the condo, but you ruined it.”

“Good!” Frankie yelled. “I don't need one of your miserable parties. I've got everything I need to celebrate right here.”

“Fine then.”

“Fine.”

“Listen,” Grace whispered, closing the door halfway, pushing them all out onto the terrace. “Give us a couple of hours, alright? Or better yet, the rest of the night. Tomorrow we’ll let you know what we've decided.”

“Twenty four hours,” Brianna demanded. “That's it. Then I'm calling in the National Guard.”

“You go ahead and do that,” Grace sneered. “Nobody’s gonna drag us out of here until we're ready.”

“Mom, we only did this because we love you,” Mallory frowned. “We're just as scared as…”

“Don’t,” Grace snapped, and Mallory’s lips shut tight like a pocketbook. “Don't you dare say that. You couldn't possibly be.”

“Call Nick!” Brianna shouted back at her from the steps to the car.

Grace waved them off, closing the door behind her. The sirens in her brain were blaring, threatening to make her dizzy, combined with the anxious wheezing noise Frankie was making across the room. _This is too much_ , Grace swallowed, confused to high heavens about everything they'd just heard, especially the Nick part, though she couldn't make heads or tails of it through her rage. Right now, her first priority was making sure Frankie didn't spiral into a full blown panic attack.

“Can you believe them?” she scoffed, crossing the room as quickly as she could, making contact with Frankie’s shoulder, rubbing it through her tie-died smock. “The nerve, honestly.”

“Right?” Frankie growled, clutching the gigantic crystal swinging from her neck. “What a let down. After all those months of being dead, Bud just blurted it out.”

“Forget about them. We can party right here!” Grace proclaimed. She sprang into action, searching through cupboards for anything else they may have left behind. “I know we don't have champagne, but there's got to be something we can use to make an impromptu toast, right?”

“I think I hid a bottle of kombucha and some warm ginger ale under the sink upstairs.”

“How about an empty glass for right now?” Grace offered, handing her a mason jar speckled with paint, holding onto her own red solo cup. “It's symbolic, right? You like that.”

“I don't mind it. But I also wouldn't mind a drink right now. Or two. Or four.”

“We’ll order in later,” Grace promised, raising her cup. “Cheers. To being alive. To the most alive woman I’ve ever known. To our new lives, whatever they shape up to be.”

“Cheers,” Frankie clinked the crinkled plastic skeptically, laughing a little under her breath as Grace took an imaginary sip. “I guess...I guess it is a good opportunity to start over again. Figure out exactly...exactly what we want.”

“I know what I want,” Grace spoke matter-of-factly.

“What's that?” Frankie froze.

“Chinese!” Grace told her wide-eyed, a bit manic and a whole lot higher than she'd anticipated. “Did you ever think you'd hear me say that?”

“No, but you're surprising me more than ever these days. Don't you want to call Nick and figure out what's really going on?”

“No,” Grace deflected, pulling an old take out menu from the table in the center of the room. “I don't want to deal with any of that yet. We have our house back. Let's just enjoy it for a little while."

“Fine,” Frankie swallowed, crossing her arms sheepishly as she took another sip of air from the mason jar.

Grace pulled out her phone and began to dial, glancing up at her roommate, her best friend, knowing they had so much to talk about, so many more questions than answers at this point. But if she could just hold on to this moment, freeze everything for just a little longer, she knew they could find a way to make sense of it all.

* * *

 

“Score!” Frankie slapped at her thighs, drumming enthusiastically as the bottle cap landed in the tin bucket on the window sill. “Your go. Game point.”

“When did we decide what game point was?” Grace argued, steadying her hips, squatting gingerly as she stuck out her tongue and squinted one eye, taking aim at her target.

“It's always been ten. House rules.”

“Who’s house?”

“Our house! Duh.”

“I don't remember ever agreeing to that,” Grace smirked, pitching her arm back, then lunging forward. She missed, sending the cap skittering across the cement floor until it was lost with its comrades in the colony of dust bunnies beneath the utility cabinet.

“Ah! I win!” Frankie bounced up and down. “Nice try, Kevin. I think you would have been better at it sitting. This angle was perfect. That, and my indisputable geometric prowess made it impossible for me to lose.”

“Whatever, Frances,” Grace rolled her eyes, taking another swig as she fell back onto the couch.

“I can't believe you're drinking beer,” Frankie shook her head, dabbing at her upper lip with a napkin, still missing the soy sauce that had been flecked there since dinner. “You're a real rebel, Grace Hanson. Being on the lam’s changed you.”

“Yeah, that or this was all Freddy the delivery guy offered to bring us,” she defended, stealing the napkin, wiping Frankie's mouth herself until it was sufficiently clean. “I'm sure I'll regret it in the morning when my jeans don't fit.”

“Well, maybe if you didn't wear them so tight, you might be able to make room for the occasional food baby,” Frankie leaned back, running her hands over her own proud, bloated paunch. “Not that I'm complaining.”

“I don't plan on making a habit out of this. Soon as we get everything straightened out, get the rest of the work done in the kitchen, it’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming. I don't think I've ever longed for routine so much in my whole life.”

“Somehow I don't believe that,” Frankie smirked. “They had us on a pretty regimented routine over there at Walden Villas.”

“I mean _our_ routine. TV night. Pancakes for dinner night. Game night, not to be confused with puzzle night.”

“There's not enough room for a big puzzle table at the retirement home,” Frankie pouted. “How many laser cats can you fit on a twenty eight-inch surface?”

“Not nearly enough,” Grace laughed heartily, biting her lip as she stole another look at Frankie, taking one last sip of her Tsingtao. “I don't know about you, but I’m exhausted. I think I'd like to turn in early.”

“Sure,” Frankie stood, though she was clearly a little disappointed. “I'll see if there’s some extra blankets in the bureau upstairs.”

“For who? Me? I'm not sleeping on this sofa again.”

“Well I didn't…” Frankie fumbled, playing with her necklace. “I mean, I’d offer you the bed, but I didn't know how you'd feel about climbing the stairs just yet. It is a very cozy sofa, Grace. I've had some of the best sleep of my life on that sofa, not to mention my best ideas.”

“I'm sure you have,” Grace groaned, pushing to her feet, limping over to the staircase before taking a seat on the third step. “But I'd rather not cause any more damage to this ‘ole gal today. I need a real bed. With a real mattress.”

“I guess that does make sense. I can take the sofa then.”

“Don't be silly,” Grace yawned, gripping the railing with one hand, holding out the other. “Come on. Help me scoot. It’ll go faster that way.”

“Okay,” Frankie slowly approached, taking Grace’s other hand, holding it firmly in her own. Her skin was still freezing. No wonder their heating bill was always through the roof. "You’re sure you don't mind sharing a bed with me?"

“I didn't say that,” Grace sighed through clenched teeth. “But that's what we're doing.”

Frankie didn't say another word. Grace mounted each step as quickly as she could, thankful her arms were still in great shape. Her bionic knee was healing, but she wasn't ready to run a marathon, especially not after today’s journey down the beach. But the other knee was what worried her more. She'd barely made it through one surgery without a meltdown. Frankie had never left her side. She was there when they put her under, there when they woke her up. Still, the thought of going through it all again, the odds of having two back-to-back surgeries without any complications, was enough to make Grace’s worst nightmares seem like full fledged fantasies.

She couldn't give in to the pain now. Not when the kids were looking for any excuse to lock them up and throw away the key. Not when she needed to be strong, confident in their ability to bounce back from this fall, to rebuild their life here without anyone doubting they could do it.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Frankie helped Grace to her feet. Grace smoothed her impeccably starched blouse, shaking out her hair regally before taking in the stark white room. There was nothing left up there but the bed, the bare mattress stained with paint and vindaloo and god knows what else. Grace was so tired, she didn't dare complain.

Neither of them turned on the light as they climbed onto the surface, Grace on her side, Frankie on hers. It had been a while, almost a year since they'd shared a bed like this. A much nicer bed, one with sheets and a comforter, in a room that smelled like French vanilla and lavender instead of patchouli and old Indian food. But Grace almost found it appealing, accepting this challenge to rough it, to go a night without her moisturizers or her pills, to see how far she was willing to bend to make this work.

She stretched out along the bumpy, worn out silk, using her hands as a pillow, knees bent slightly as she faced the window. Frankie lay down beside her, positioning herself exactly the same way, only facing Grace, the light from the beach haloing her silver mane, spilling across shockingly blue eyes, the corners of crow’s feet. Grace shifted a little, trying to get comfortable, until she found her groove, never taking her eyes off the woman lying so close, staring at her like she was dying for either of them to speak.

"What if Nick bought the house for you and him to live in?” Frankie finally blurted. “What if he wants to live here with you and not me?"

"He knows that's not on the table,” Grace shook her head, voice much steadier than she'd anticipated, given the circumstances. “I broke up with him, remember? This was a really grand gesture. Too grand. One I greatly appreciate, but...I don't want to feel like I owe him anything.”

“Right. No, you don't owe him anything,” Frankie blinked, curling her hands beneath her head, bringing them to lie on the bed in front of her. "So we're...we're really going to live here together for the rest of our lives then? Is that the plan?”

“Of course it is,” Grace’s chest tightened at the thought of any other option. “Isn't it?”

“Well, yeah. Yes. I mean, that's what I want. That's why I came back, if it's...so long as that's what you want, is all I'm saying.”

“That is what I want,” Grace affirmed. “We’ll just have to make some adjustments to the house itself. Put in a chair lift. Maybe turn the meditation room into the new master, make one of the living rooms the meditation room. Add a bathroom to the first floor. God, it’s gonna cost us, but that's fine. Maybe I shouldn't kick Nick to the curb just yet. See if he wants to chip in.”

It was a terrible thought, one she never would have seriously considered. Nick, it turned out, was one of the sweetest, most considerate, most honest men she'd ever known. He was a doll, really, and he was crazy about her. This proved it. But there was still something about him, about their dynamic, that felt... _off_. She couldn’t shake it, and she could never fully relax. She refused to let him take care of her in all the always he claimed he wanted to. She'd buy this house back from him, thank him for his efforts, for his kindness, and move on. That was the only way forward.

“Maybe,” Frankie swallowed. “But why would he do this if he didn't plan on making himself at home? What if he doesn't want to share you?”

"Well, he can fuck off then.”

“Seriously, Grace,” Frankie sighed, biting her lip. “I don't want to be the third wheel. Or worse, the flat tire that gets left on the side of the road.”

“I am being serious. He's not the person I see myself with in the long run.”

“Who is then?” Frankie asked pointedly. “Me?”

Grace was struck by the accusation, mouth falling open, but no words came out. Her entire body seized, the hair on the back of her neck prickling her skin, because that's exactly what it felt like. An accusation.

“I...well, yes, in a way,” she defended. “You and I will live together, and whatever dalliances I decide to take up will just have to accept that.”

“And what about me?” Frankie lifted on her elbow, brow furrowed. “What if I meet someone tall, dark and handsome who wants to live with me? What then?”

“That's…” Grace could feel her heart thudding against her breastbone. “I thought you didn't want that. You left Jacob.”

“I did. But that doesn't mean I plan to be celibate for the rest of my life.”

“I don't know why you're doing this to me right now,” Grace huffed, kicking her shoes onto the floor, shifting. “I said I was tired. I just want to go to sleep.”

“Well I can't sleep. You expect me to sleep with all this hanging over our heads? I'm terrified.”

“There's nothing to be terrified about,” Grace reached for her arm, and Frankie pulled away, to Grace’s absolute horror. “Frankie, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you having seconds thoughts? Because I thought I'd made it clear I...I was ready to give up _everything_ for you. Move into a place I hated, put our business on hold. I thought...I thought we agreed we’d do anything for each other."

"Clearly not anything,” Frankie mumbled, rolling her eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Grace shot up this time.

Frankie was breathing so hard, for a minute Grace was worried she might be having some kind of episode. Her hands were shaking. She rolled over onto her back, but refused to look at Grace, planting her hands on her chest, taking hold of her necklace, digging her thumbs into her sternum.

"Do you remember when I told you what really got me to sleep?” she whispered, voice cracking as she stared at the ceiling.

“I…” Grace tried to remember. It didn't take long. “Yeah, I...I don't see any books around here though, unfortunately.”

“I don't mean that,” Frankie shook her head. “I mean the other thing. The thing you said you couldn't help me with. And I said, can't...or won't?”

“Boy, you remember every detail of that conversation but you can't remember when I ask for your half of the phone bill?” Grace argued, curling her arms around her tender knees, trying not to sweat. “That's convenient.”

“Grace.”

"Your point, Frankie?"

"You never answered my question."

"What are you asking?"

Frankie was very quiet. Grace tried to let her own mind go blank, to imagine she was anywhere else, that the roof might get blown off, or the whole house might get swept away in a flash tsunami, carrying them out into the middle of the ocean.

"If I wanted you to…” Frankie’s words felt like they were coming out in slow motion, like she could barely believe she was saying them. “Would you?"

“Jesus fucking Christ, are we really having this conversation?” Grace blanched. “Because it's a lot…”

“Fine. Forget it. Nevermind.”

“No, not nevermind!” Grace twisted towards her. “You can't nevermind me now. You can't take it back.”

“I thought we could maybe have a mature conversation about this given everything we've been through lately,” Frankie whined, turning on her side, away from Grace. “But I guess I was wrong. Let's just go to sleep. You can call Nick in the morning and pretend this never happened.”

“No,” Grace grabbed her arm again, and this time, she was relieved Frankie didn't pull away. But then Grace caved, whipping her hand back to her own lap, needing to maintain their fragile boundaries. “What is it you're trying to say to me? Really?”

They talked about sex all the time. About what it was like with their husbands. About what it was like with other men. They talked about their business, about what worked and what didn't, all of it. But the conversation always stopped short when it got too hot, too close to the things they'd both been too chickenshit to bring up. The obvious things, like everything they’d been avoiding.

“You keep asking if I want you to do stuff to me, and I keep saying no,” Grace cringed, listening to herself cop out. “I don't know why you’d think…”

“No you don't.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don't say anything,” Frankie shrugged. “You just let it hang there, like it was a hypothetical. Like I'd be ridiculous for thinking the question might have any merit to it.”

“Frankie, I am three seconds away from hopping out of this bed and flinging myself down the staircase. Just come out and say whatever it is you…”

“ _Maybe I want you to do stuff to me_!” Frankie shouted, voice strained, tears stinging her eyes. She looked at Grace for half a second, incredulous and ashamed of the admission, then away again, back up to the ceiling where it was safer. Much safer. “Maybe I think about it sometimes. Not as a joke. As a real possibility. If we're really in this together, for the rest of our lives, without anyone else.”

“Do you really?” Grace shuddered, licking her lips as she ran her hand over the nape of her own neck. “You think...you would really want…”

“It's a lot to ask me to confirm without knowing what you're going to say. Without feeling...feeling like I'm asking for too much. I never thought I'd find the courage to say it, but here we are. I left Santa Fe for you. I left Jacob...because I missed you. Because I could hear the hurt every time we hung up the phone and I wasn't in the studio, and I couldn't just walk over and see your face if I needed to say goodnight one more time. Then I came back, and you'd already moved on with someone else. Two someones, in fact. And then we lost our house, and you came with me. You did it for me, and you left Nick, who’s practically perfect for you in a lot of ways, and I…now I guess I feel like I don't have anything to lose. Because I've already lost so much, and I don't want to lose you again. And you're right, maybe I don't want a man on the side. Maybe I want the whole package. To live with someone who wants me in all the ways I need to be wanted. But I don't want to get left behind. So what I really need to know, all I'm asking is...if I'm willing to live my life with you, and only you...would you? Would you even consider it for more than a second, if I wanted you to?”

Grace felt like she might not make it through this conversation. Her heart was beating out of control, head pounding, throat aching with the words stuck there, waiting to slaughter her careful life, all her decades of hiding from the truth.

She knew this day was inevitable. She thought back on that night, when they'd last had this conversation, or what came close to it. She read to Frankie, watched her fall asleep, smitten with the way her cheeks pinked up as her body heat rose beneath the blanket, the way it always did when she napped. She couldn't resist the opportunity to tuck her in, steal a kiss to her forehead, a silent promise that didn't have any real language to it. It was just a feeling, an impulse left unexplored, like so many other impulses she'd had but never followed through with. And then, she went upstairs and tried not to think about it. She even had Nick over the very next night, gave herself over to the role she was more familiar with, the person who was safer, who she knew exactly how to handle.

“Maybe...maybe I would,” Grace exhaled, her own eyes pooling with fear and relief. “Maybe...maybe I'm just scared...I wouldn't know how.”

“Oh, honey,” Frankie reached out, scooping Grace’s hand, lacing their fingers. “I don't know what I'm doing either. I'm scared too. I didn't mean to make you cry, I just...I couldn't keep it to myself anymore. I…”

“When Robert left,” Grace began again, squeezing Frankie’s hand. “The scariest thing was realizing he'd stopped pretending. _That_ was the ultimate betrayal. That we both weren't going to be able to pretend anymore. But I didn't...I didn't expect...that would be the scariest thing about you and me too.”

“You feel like I've betrayed you?” Frankie asked, confused. “Because I told you the truth?”

“No,” Grace shook her head, shifting away a little, wiping her eyes with her free hand. She laid back down, both of them staring at the ceiling now, the energy between them pulsing at the epicenter where their fingers met. “It's just...why now? I mean, our whole lives have blown up, and now you want to be serious? Is this even a real conversation, or are you just trying to torture me because I can't escape?”

“It's real, Grace,” Frankie breathed. “It's not a game. I wouldn't do that to you. Or me. It's just...the reality of the situation is, I don't think either of us wants to be alone, and I think you've been operating under the assumption that you can have your cake and eat it too, without ever having to eat…”

“Frankie!” Grace fluttered, though she played it off as annoyance. “Be careful. I need you to be so careful with me right now, do you understand? Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes,” Frankie spoke very low. “I’ll try. No, I will.”

“Good. So...you're saying, you want to be with me, and no one else. Ever. In all the ways a person is with another person. Am I getting that right?”

“Yes,” Frankie repeated. “Ideally, that would be the thing.”

“I see,” Grace swallowed, feeling like she was standing out on the ledge, her extremities going numb. “And you...you know I've never been with a woman, right? In case you’ve somehow gotten a different impression?”  
  
“I know that. I haven't either. You think I'm kidding when I say I'm scared? These feelings were news to me too, but I don't think it's just been in my head. I think you…”

"I'm not gay,” Grace whispered, and for once, it felt more like a question, or a plea than a declarative statement, the tone of her own voice scaring the shit out of her.  
  
"Why do we have to put labels on things?” Frankie mused, squeezing Grace’s hand courageously, and Grace marveled at how well she knew what she needed. “Clearly what we have already defies convention. We make our own rules. Shouldn't we at least try?"  
  
"Try what, exactly?"  
  
"Just see,” Frankie shrugged. “If we can really give each other everything."  
  
"You want me to give you an orgasm, Frankie? Is that what you're asking.”

"Do you think you could?"  
  
"I know I could,” Grace asserted boldly, panting a little against her will, riding on adrenaline. “Vibrator or no vibrator, I…”  
  
"This isn't a dare,” Frankie trembled. “This is me. Really asking. Really terrified."  
  
"Why didn't you ask before?"  
  
"Because I was afraid you'd say no,” Frankie nearly fell apart, the limits of her vulnerability being tested.

Grace couldn't stand it. She took a deep breath, and after a few seconds, slowly turned over on her shoulder, facing down her better demons, facing the only person who could make her say and do the things she swore she never would.  
  
"When have I ever said no to you?" she rasped.

"All the time,” Frankie whispered.  
  
"But…” Grace swallowed. “But not when it really mattered, right?”  
  
"I guess not,” Frankie sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I guess...I guess I need to know how you really feel about me, Grace. Is there something really there? I've had my suspicions for a while, long before I left for Santa Fe, but I didn't…I didn't want to face it if it was just one-sided.”

“It's not one-sided,” Grace spoke, almost hoarsely. “You're...you're all I need. Your company, your companionship. I just don't know why we have to complicate it with sex.”

“Because I want sex,” Frankie told her. “I'm a sexual being, and I know you are too. We sell vibrators for Christ’s sake. If I thought you were asexual, or didn't want to have sex with anyone again, I would never have brought it up, but since I know you do…”  
  
“But...why?” Grace had to ask. “Why would you want to be with me and no on else? Why would you...”

“Because I love you! Because I feel the most like myself when I'm with you. Because I think you're the bees knees, and beautiful and sexy and all that jazz, all the things I know I'm not supposed to say, but that's how I feel. Because I...because I'm finding it harder to keep my hands off you, and I'm done with making excuses. I love you. And I want you. Isn't that enough?”

Grace’s insides had turned to jelly, her ears ringing, the ball of nerves she’d carried in her for nearly her whole life, the feeling that had only gotten heavier in the past three years suddenly losing its gravity, making its way up into her lower back. It filled her entirely with pain and desire, hesitation and the deepest sense of belonging, so much she could barely speak.

“Yeah,” she swallowed. “Yeah, I think it is.”

“But you don't feel that way do you? Otherwise why would you have gone out with Nick in the first place?”

“Because you left!” Grace didn't mean to shout, but her voice echoed against the empty walls. “In case you've conveniently forgotten. You left just when I thought...when I felt like there was something developing between us, something I clearly wasn't ready to articulate, but it was there. You felt it too. But you ran.”

“But I came back,” Frankie rolled towards her, pulling her hand away, and for a minute Grace felt like she was plummeting down the slope of a rollercoaster, her stomach appearing to leave the rest of her body. Until Frankie brought her hand to her shoulder, tracing her skin through her shirt, gripping loosely, but intently. “Isn't that the important part? I'm here now, and the truth is...I want to be with you. I know this isn't what either of us had planned, but I do love you, Grace. I'm not afraid to say it.”

“I know,” Grace shook, bringing her own hand to Frankie’s cheek, brushing some of her loose, wool-like hair behind her ear. “I know you're not. And I...I feel the same way. But it's not as easy for me. But I'm willing to try.”

“Right,” Frankie exhaled, eyelashes fluttering, skin finally heating up. “Try. So how about...how about we try then. At least...at least a kiss, maybe? Just to see if there's anything really there?”  
  
“Okay,” Grace agreed all too quickly.  "What if we don't like it?"  
  
"What do we have to lose? If we don't like it, we don't like it. We go back to the way things are now."  
  
"Can we?" Grace already knew the answer.  
  
"Sure. I'm still not going anywhere. Ever. Except heaven. And I'm not even sure I want to go there. I might just haunt this house forever so I can stay close to you."  
  
"Why do you think you're going first?” Grace panicked, pulling on Frankie’s arm, inching closer. “You...you're not allowed to do that."  
  
"Okay. I won't."  
  
" _Don't_ ,” Grace begged.

"I said I won't."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Good. Grace?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Kiss me, please.”

Grace swallowed back the wave of fear surging to the surface, drowning it as she put her hand on Frankie’s cheek, thumb settling beneath her fuzzy chin. She dipped forward, noses clashing gently, eyes remaining open as they danced, and then, Grace kissed her. Frankie’s lips were the opposite of cold, the opposite of foreign. They were plump and fleshy and softer than anything she'd ever felt, and they moved like they meant it. They tasted like home.

It didn't last long. Frankie pulled back after a few more moments. Grace waited for her to say something, waited as their breath mixed and mingled, lips stinging, heart racing for whatever came next.

“Wow,” Frankie breathed. “What a way to live.”

Grace closed her eyes, and she dove back in, knowing she'd never return to the shore.


	2. Chapter 2

_The last time Grace pretended to be asleep while lying next to another woman was in college._

_Minnie Weisner was a reluctant member of Alpha Xi Delta, a little too go-her-own-way for the strict rules and dress codes, the weekly house meetings and requisite bake sales. Minnie preferred getting baked behind the white-columned mansion they lived in instead, letting frat boys feel her up, sneaking hits from a flask she stole from her father between classes. It was Minnie who first got Grace to drink, offering her way too much tequila, holding back her hair while she puked in the bushes on their way home from a party across campus._

_Grace could never keep up with Minnie’s antics, though she tried. She stopped short of cutting her hair into a bob, a strict no-no according to the Greek Council. All the girls were supposed to keep their hair long and blonde and perfectly conditioned. The head sisters would line them up and measure everyone’s locks with a ruler on Sunday evenings. Anyone who came in above the shoulders was punished with dish scrubbing duty that week._

_But Minnie decided to lead a revolution. She was a big fan of Sophia Loren, painting her cat eyes each morning, dotting her cheek with a beauty mark no one knew was fake. The pièce de résistance was cutting off all her luscious waves one night, dying them chestnut brown before descending the grand staircase, to the shock and awe of every other woman standing there waiting to be judged. The elder sisters tried to throw her out, but her parents had donated too much money to the school, so Minnie got the rules to change. Eventually, Grace went with a slightly shorter ‘do, much more Ann-Margret than Sophia Loren, but she felt liberated nonetheless._

_One night, she and Minnie were up until the wee hours studying for an exam they had the next morning. Minnie fell asleep on her British History text, lips sticking to the yellowed pages, eye makeup smeared as she dreamed blissfully, not a care in the world. Grace tried to shake her awake, get her to move to her own bedroom down the hall, but Minnie refused to budge._

_And so, Grace reached up and turned off the light, lying back on her pillow, staring down the length of Minnie’s bare, tan legs for the next few hours, wishing she could pull off short shorts, even just around the house. She wasn't that daring, but she wanted to be. She wanted to be anything other than the daughter of two WASPs who never kissed each other goodnight, who made her feel like she shouldn't ask for more affection than she was given. She wanted to dye her hair black, or lead a protest, or make out with someone in public. But she also wanted to disappear, to be praised for being good, to not let anyone see just how confused and wrong she felt most of the time, how very little she knew about who she was._

_Minnie knew. She knew exactly who she was then and who she wanted to be. All Grace knew was that she shouldn't be staring at Minnie’s legs that way, or worrying about how heartbroken she'd be if she did end up getting expelled._

_Grace lie there beating herself up all night, wishing Minnie would wake up and stop pressing into her side, though the goosebumps under her pajama pants told a different story. The very next day, she decided it was better for all parties involved if she started making a more concerted effort to spend time with the in-crowd. She met Robert that week at a football rally, and the rest was history._

“Hey,” Frankie rustled groggily, stretching her long arms above her head, bracelets jingling, poking Grace’s shoulder with the tip of her nose. “You awake?”

“Yeah,” Grace startled, faking a yawn as she covered her mouth with her hand and slowly rolled onto her side. “How'd you sleep?”

“Like a baby in a very uncomfortable bassinet. I think the floor might have been a better choice. How about you?”

“Great,” Grace lied, voice higher-pitched than normal. She played with the collar of her shirt, wondering if she looked like a train wreck or only felt like one.

“No you didn't,” Frankie grinned. “I've been watching you for the last half hour. Your eyes are a little bloodshot, by the by. Did I talk a lot in my sleep? Is that what kept you up?”

“Yes, you did,” Grace rolled her eyes. “And no, I don't think that's what kept me up.”

“Well, what did I say? Was it dirty? Because, like I said, I completely respect your need for boundaries. But I can't be held responsible for what slips out when I'm deep in my R.E.M. cycle.”

“It wasn't dirty. It was unintelligible,” Grace fibbed, blushing hard.

She could only make out a few words, like “horticulture” and “bring me my cervix, please.” But there were other things, like the few times Frankie laughed under her breath, that throaty, soul-warming giggle that was all hers, that did make it impossible for Grace to nod off. Frankie was completely knocked out when it happened, but judging by the tiny squeak of a moan that followed, she appeared to be pleased with whatever visions were swimming in her subconscious. Her lips curled beneath the moonlight, the apples of her cheeks taunting Grace as she tried to think about anything other than how they’d spent the evening.

“I'm sorry,” Frankie frowned. “I wish you had been more comfortable.”

“It's okay,” she sighed, tracing the space on the bed between them, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar patterns. “So...so I guess we should probably talk about…”

“Oh god, here it comes,” Frankie covered her eyes dramatically. “I knew it was too much. It had to be too much, too good to be true. It's…”

“No!” Grace stopped her, gripping Frankie’s forearm to ground them both. “No, I...I'm happy about what happened. I just think we should talk about it, don't you?”

“I do. I mean...you did?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Grace insisted, continuing to flush. “I thought I made that pretty clear.”

“Well, kind of. Sort of. I mean, you did kiss me. And you kept kissing me, and holding me, which was really nice. And your leg did sort of wrap around my thighs at one point, which I was also into, until it started hurting your knee. But that didn't stop you from roaming a little with your…”

“Are we really gonna go through a play-by-play right now? Because I was there, you know.”

“Yes,” Frankie glowed, wiggling her shoulders like it was the greatest thing she’d ever heard. “You were.”

Grace couldn't help but soften at that, boldly walking her fingers down the length of Frankie’s wrist, taking her hand, kissing chafed knuckles.

“I just can't believe…”

“Any of this?” Grace guffawed. “Yeah. That makes two of us.”

“But you don't regret it?”

“No,” Grace told her quietly, pinning Frankie’s hand to her chest like a silent prayer. “No, I...I'm still not sure I know what I'm doing, or what any of this means really...but I know I don't want to stop.”

“Well it's a good thing we did stop, because I need to take things slow, and I'm pretty sure you do too,” Frankie swallowed. “All that aside, you definitely know what you're doing.”

“I...I do?” Grace peeped, lips twitching.

“Oh god yes,” Frankie cooed, eyelids heavy. “Why do you think I was mumbling all those sweet, sensual nothings in my sleep? The way you kissed me...god, I don't think I've ever been kissed like that, not even by Sol. You kissed me like...like you've been waiting to do it your whole life. Like you really did miss me, even all this time I've been back, living here right next to you. I don't know if that makes any sense, but...it was extraordinary. And soft. And delicious. A revelation, truly.”

“Well,” Grace preened, tracing the outline of Frankie’s ivory cheek with her thumb, almost breathless at the shock of being able to do it so freely. “Glad I could be of service.”

“Mmmm,” Frankie nestled in, smushing their foreheads together. “This is nice.”

“It is.”

“Do you think…I know I just said we need to take it slow, but...if you wanted to dial it up even half a notch, I'm pretty sure I could take it.”

“Oh?” Grace tried to stay cool, but felt like all her nerves had become live wires, sending signals to her skin in every place their bodies touched.

“Uh huh.”

“Alright then,” Grace agreed, tentatively bringing her hand to Frankie’s wild mess of curls, holding onto them like they were the keys to the universe, like she had any idea what notch to conquer next. “That's good, I suppose, because...because it turns out, I can't keep my hands off you either.”

Frankie didn't ask this time. She didn't need to. Instead, she buried her hands in Grace’s feathered tresses, kissing her long and slow, capturing smaller lips with the fullness of her own, until they were collapsing the distance between them. Grace had learned so much in just a few hours, like the way Frankie liked it when she used her teeth, or the way they both reacted when their tongues met, like suddenly the different languages they spoke made perfect sense.

Grace kept breathing heavily through her nose, kissing her best friend like it was no big deal, like it was the biggest deal, the most important, brilliant thing she'd ever done. Frankie kissed her as if she knew exactly what she was after, like she knew who Grace really was, and she liked what she knew. It felt as if every moment they’d shared, every argument, every ounce of bitterness towards their ex-husbands, every foolish afternoon spent goofing off in the beach house over the past three years led them to this place, where everything and nothing made sense, where suddenly anything seemed possible.

Frankie’s arm snaked around Grace’s tiny waist, hand finding its way to her lower back, and Grace let out a soft plea as she gave the go ahead, pushing it down to her jeans, encouraging her to take all she wanted. Frankie’s breath hitched into Grace’s mouth, and she squeezed her ass eagerly, like it was a handful of jelly beans, all the while deepening the kiss, letting their tongues duke it out for who wanted it most.

“Holy hell,” Frankie shivered, finally coming up for breath. “Oh god…”

“Is that good?” Grace panted.

“Yes,” Frankie swallowed. “I...I like what you're doing with my necklace.”

Grace pulled back slightly, looking down between them, realizing she had her hand clamped around the massive crystal. She'd been stroking it absent-mindedly, letting her palm slip up and down its opaque ridges, all the while teasing Frankie’s breasts with just the backs of her fingertips.

“Shit,” she let go, moving her hand somewhere safer, Frankie’s elbow for starters. “Sorry, I...guess it felt like safe territory.”

“It feels good is what it feels like,” Frankie rasped. “So long as you're thinking about me.”

“How could I not?” Grace whispered, licking her lips. “My hands are full of you, but...I could give you more.”

“I bet you could. I could give you a whole lot more too.”

“I know, and I…” Grace sat up, begrudgingly pumping the brakes. “I want you to. I really, really do, but...I have to straighten things out with Nick first.”

“You're right,” Frankie nodded, deflating. “No, I get it. Not too straight though, if you don't mind.”

“Oh god,” she laughed, hiding her eyes. “I signed up for a lifetime of bad puns, didn't I?”

“You get the bad with the good, I'm afraid.”

“I’ll take it,” Grace beamed, leaning in for another peck, reveling in her own bravery, at just how good and natural and overdue it felt. “I'll take all of it, just let me make things right first. That'll give us both peace of mind, right?”

“Right,” Frankie agreed, sitting up, sliding to the edge of the bed as she rested her palms on her knees and stared out the window. “Listen, I know how these things work. If you find yourself in need of closure, if you need to sleep with him one more time, just to be sure, I’d understand. Lord knows I needed it with Sol. I guess we both did.”

Grace couldn't believe her ears. Her first instinct was to puff up, flare with defensiveness, protect this thing they had blooming at all costs, even from the woman on the other end of it. Because the assumption was horrifying, that she couldn’t control herself, that she hadn’t thought any of this through, that she hadn’t carefully considered exactly what she wanted or what she planned to say.

But the truth was, she hadn’t. This was all happening so fast, much faster than she’d ever intended or dared dream. One minute she was resigned to live in a retirement community, sleep alone in a bedroom much smaller than everything she’d worked so hard for, ready to give it all up if meant Frankie was safe, that they could continue living together no matter the circumstances. The next thing she knew, they were flying down the beach in stolen property, crashing back into their lives like hell on wheels. They were telling off their kids, making out like two teenagers in an empty house, like they were getting away with something, like it hadn’t been just the thing they both needed to remind them of what they deserved.

Grace took a deep breath, took a moment to process before speaking. It was a new thing she was trying, something she'd learned from Sheree of all people. In that space, she realized Frankie didn't sound like she was coming from a lack of trust, or being flakey with her emotions. She was coming from a place of total trust, total compassion. Grace had never been offered that, not to this degree. She almost didn't know how to handle it.

She sat up, scooting to the other side of the bed, careful not to put too much weight on her knees, until she was sitting flush with Frankie’s hip. Slowly, she reached out, cradling Frankie’s chin in her hand, turning it to face her. And then, she kissed her again, so soft this time, lips almost imperceptibly making waves at first. Frankie’s head tipped forward, the breath between them hot and limitless, an electric kind of magic all its own. Their hands searched, anchoring on each other's wrinkled clothes, drawing them together like magnets. Grace slid her hand up Frankie’s back, sinking in to the flesh beneath her blue and purple frock, feeling for the first time just how solid she was, how very real and right there and not going anywhere she was. She kept holding on, sweeping her hands up Frankie’s long neck, to her fevered cheeks, pulling back as she stared into her eyes quite seriously, refusing to look away.

“Thank you,” she spoke clearly. “But I don't need that. I have everything I need right here.”

“Oh. Okay,” Frankie shrugged, eyes tearing a little as she blinked. “Good. Because I know I talk a lot about murder, but I didn't actually want to have to commit the deed.”

“That won't be necessary,” Grace snorted. “I'll be back before you know it, and we’ll talk to the kids. We’ll go get our stuff, and we’ll come home. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Frankie sniffed, leaning against Grace’s shoulder, letting herself be wrapped up.

Grace squinted out at the beach, taking in another breath, letting it go, hoping she really did know what she was doing. She kissed the top of Frankie’s head, allowing the sweet, musty scent to fill her up, tasting the familiar in the back of her throat, knowing she might not be clear on exactly where they were headed, but at least they were on the right track.

* * *

The cafe was busy for a Tuesday. Grace thanked her Uber driver, tipping him a little extra, looking around to make sure no one she knew was watching. She didn't want to risk going back to Walden Villas for her own car lest she run into Arlene or the kids. She couldn't talk to any of them yet, not until she took care of this first.

That, and she somehow felt naked outside, even with yesterday's clothes on, like everyone could tell what she'd been doing. She swiped a pair of sunglasses from one of Frankie’s junk drawers and used the decrepit studio sink to even out her sagging makeup, but that was the best she could manage. It wasn't exactly how she wanted to look for this meeting, but there wasn't any reason to waste more time getting pretty for someone she didn't need to impress.

She searched the crowd anxiously, finally spotting Nick near the center of the hubbub, seated at their usual table.

“I thought I might never see you again,” he stood, eyes glued to her as he waited patiently for her to sit first.

“Yeah, well. I thought you might actually respect my wishes for a change,” she snarked, sliding into her chair. “What exactly do you think you're doing?”

“Having lunch,” he lifted his mimosa cheerfully, toasting the air. “Or brunch, I suppose, if you want to get technical.”

“Nick,” she sighed, resting her fingertips on the edge of the table, lowering her gaze apologetically. “Please...”

“Please what? Can't I just be happy to be here with you? Happy that you called? That's a start.”

“Why did you buy my house?”

“Why do you think?” he put the glass down, leaning forward. “Because I refuse you give up on you, even if you're ready to give up on yourself.”

“I'm…” she gaped, sitting up straight. “I'm not giving up. I'm not. Really. I'm just getting started.”

“That's not what it sounded like the last time we saw each other,” he shook his head. “I didn't want you to have any regrets, so I figured, buy the house. Let it sit empty till you come to your senses.”

“That's all, huh? You make it sound so unselfish.”

“When have you known me to be anything else?” he winked, reaching for her hand across the table. She let him take it, closing her eyes at how firm and forgiving his grip was. He smelled so good. He was wearing her favorite shirt, the one she'd said made him look like Carey Grant in a movie whose name she couldn't remember. “I know you, Grace. I know you're not ready to settle down and wait for death to claim you on its doorstep. You've got too much fire in those eyes, in that heart. I'm not gonna let you slip away.”

“That's…” she sighed, carefully pulling back until he let go. “It's nice to hear you say that. And I agree with you, but that doesn't mean I need you to swoop in and save me. I don't need saving.”

“Really? Okay, fine, I can respect that. But I don't respect you living in a place where they ring a bell every time they want you to take a pill and try to force feed you jello. You're not an old woman, Grace. You…”

“I _am_ an old woman!” she banged her hand on the table, wincing as she felt the eyes around them fall on her, then politely turn back to their poached eggs. “And I'm okay with that. I thought you were too.”

“Look, I don't know what you want me to say. I'm telling you what I see, and what I see is a youthful, mostly healthy woman who needed a push, who was gonna lose everything if someone didn't stop her from making a huge mistake. So I bought your house. It's up to you now what you do with it.”

“Oh really? That's it? You didn't have any ulterior motives?” she glared. “You don't expect to get anything out of the deal?”

“Well,” he swallowed, and her stomach cramped at how nervous he actually seemed. “I wasn't gonna force the issue, but since you're bringing it up, I did have a few ideas in mind. Or one really, considering the property is in my name now, at least for the time being.”

“You want to move in with me,” she breathed. “Is that it?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Is that such a terrible idea? I figured since you seem to be scared to live alone, I could move in, help you take care of the place. And if we happen to find some other things for me to take care of while I'm there, that might not be so bad either.”

“I'm not scared,” she shook her head, looking down at the table. “And I'm not alone either. I have Frankie.”

“Frankie can stay too, of course. She can have the studio, like always.”

“No, I....I don't think you understand,” she swallowed, taking off her glasses, setting them on the table next to the water she hadn't touched. “It's...see, the thing is...Frankie’s not just a part of my life. She _is_ my life. She's the main event, the part I....the part I can't ever let go. I don't want her living in a basement or the studio or some guest house. I want her in _my_ house. Our house. With me.”

“Okay,” he blinked. “Well, that isn't exactly what I had in mind, but we can make it work.”

“Nick, I don't think you're hearing me,” she whispered, eyes threatening to spill. “I don't think we can.”

He continued to watch her, to size her up without judging, to take in what she was trying so desperately, so poorly to explain. She felt like she might actually die in those few seconds, break apart into tiny pieces and melt through the grates of her seat, until finally, she saw a light go on behind those big, blue puppy dog eyes that were so kind and charming. They just weren't for her.

“So,” he shifted in his chair, clearing his throat. “So you're saying then...you want to live with Frankie. Alone.”

She looked up from the table, digging into her napkin, unfurling it as she brought it to dab her cheeks, slowly nodding yes.

“And…” he swallowed. “And you don't think there's room for anyone else in that picture?”

“No,” she exhaled sharply. “No, I don't think there is.”

“Ah,” he continued to stare blankly, a bit shell shocked. “See, I…I don't get it. I thought...I thought we were really good together. I thought you liked the way I made you feel.”

“I do,” Grace admitted. “I do like the way you make me feel...but I like the way she makes me feel more.”

There it was. The truth she'd been too afraid to acknowledge for decades, even in her own head.

It was true with Guy. It was true with Phil. It was true with Robert, way back when, the day she stood Minnie up for their next study session, thinking of her the entire time she and Robert necked in the back of his Bel Air. But this time, she felt strong enough to choose the person who made her feel the most alive, the person who made her feel like every day was Christmas, who made her light up just at the sound of her voice, who made her feel like it was okay to choose herself.

“Do you understand now?”

“Yeah,” he smiled sadly. “Yeah, kid. I think I do. I don't want to, but...I do.”

Grace shook her head, biting the inside of her lip at the relief, and the guilt, all the emotions flooding through her, realizing what a huge step this was, even if it hurt.

“Did I ever really have a shot?”

“A little,” she sniffed as she laughed. “Not much.”

They sat there quietly for a while. Nick finished his mimosa, leaving a wad of cash on the table to make up for Grace not ordering anything. They stood a bit awkwardly, making their way back to the valet stand.

“Can I give you a ride?”

“I don't think so,” she told him. “Thanks.”

The town car pulled up, and the driver opened the door. Nick stood there for a another minute, turning to Grace, taking her hands in his.

“She's lucky to have you, you know.”

“She is,” Grace nodded demurely, looking up at the sky. “But I'm really lucky to have her too.”

Nick didn't appear to be in any hurry. He kept a hold of her hands, willing as always to let everyone around them wait, to allow the rest of the world to fade into the background. Thankfully, Grace’s phone began to buzz. She pulled away, checking her pocket, eyes going a little wide.

“Shit. Frankie’s been kidnapped by our kids again, I...I have to go.”

“One last kiss?” he insisted.

Grace looked up at him, smirking at his famous persistence, at how very wanted and alive and relevant he was always able to make her feel. But her phone pinged again, and she squeezed it, hoping it would somehow send a signal through to her other half, letting her know she was on her way.

She laid her hands on Nick’s chest, rising up on tiptoes, planting a sweet, friendly kiss on his cheek, before pulling away.

“Tell kooky I said hello,” Nick offered. “I'll have the papers drawn up to transfer the deed back to both your names.”

“And my bank will be in touch,” Grace nodded.

“Goodbye, Grace.”

“Bye, Nick,” she crossed her arms, squeezing herself. “Thank you.”

He smiled brightly, getting into the car, letting the driver close the door for him before taking off.

Grace wiped away another tear as she began walking down the path to the main road. She pulled up the Uber app before texting Frankie, letting her know she was coming to her rescue.

* * *

It took exactly seventeen minutes for the car to get to Walden Villas, every minute feeling like a year and a half. Grace flung open the door when she arrived, half expecting to see Frankie tied up and pleading for freedom as their ungrateful offspring held her captive. What she did not expect was to see her sitting cross-legged in the center of the living room floor, eyes closed, humming into a bowl of ice cream while Coyote stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders.

“Seriously?!” Grace barked, tossing her keys on the kitchen counter. “This was the big emergency?”

“Oh, good!” Frankie scrambled onto all fours, throwing down her spoon as she pulled herself up using Coyote’s legs. “Thank Frig you're back, honestly. And yes. I need you to explain to these goons that you and I are perfectly capable of moving at our own pace. That we have the situation under control, and we don't need them to drag us around town against our will.”

“Why did you agree to go with them then?”

“Well, I ran out of snacks,” Frankie defended. “Plus, I figured we needed to come back here anyway, so really, I used them to hitch a ride. Besides, I don't want any of our other treasures to be confiscated. Before you know it, they’ll be passing out free vibrators in the rec room.”

“Oh, yeah,” Grace laughed, crossing her arms, realizing how impossible it was to stay upset. “I'm sure the prudes who run this place would ever let that happen.”

“So what’s the deal then?” Bud asked. “Is the house sold, or what?”

“Nick did buy the house,” Grace nodded, standing tall. “And I'm buying it back. End of story.”

“Wait, why end of story?” Brianna questioned from her perch in the swinging chair. “What does that mean? Because it sounds to me like he really loves you, mom. Don't you at least want to see what that…”

“Hey, if she says end of story, end of story,” Frankie broke in, jumping in front of Grace protectively. “Are we forgetting what a colossal pain in the ass the man is? I mean, pretty eyebrows and great tush aside, he's no superman. I don't know why everyone’s so quick to let him off the hook.”

“He's not a bad guy,” Grace felt the need to point out. “He's just...not the one. That's all.”

She leaned against the wall near the kitchen, stealing a long look at Frankie, their eyes saying what no one else in the room needed to hear as of yet. Frankie let out a tiny sigh, and Grace felt her cheeks tinge pink, staring down at her shoes before they gave anything else away.

“Fine,” Bud interjected. “But we're still not cool with you two living there alone.”

“Right,” Mallory agreed. “I mean, do you guys plan to hire live-in help?”

“Absolutely fucking not!” Grace balked, moving to the middle of the room. “No one is going to live there but the two of us, and that's final. Everyone needs to chill the fuck out.”

“Yeah,” Frankie scoffed. “I've got some brownies in the fridge that could help you all with that. Well, everyone but Coyote.”

“At least stay through the end of your lease,” Coyote tried to negotiate. “You’re all paid up for the rest of the year. Maybe you’ll learn to like it.”

“Yeah, maybe I'll learn to like my fingernails being ripped out of their beds,” Frankie retorted. “No way. This ends tonight.”

“But the repairs won't be finished until the end of the week,” Bud reminded. “Be reasonable.”

“Fine,” Grace lifted her chin, hands on hips. “We’ll go home Friday. Bring the U Haul and let's get cracking. You helped get us into this mess, you can at least help us make things right again.”

“Yeah,” Frankie stepped forward, flocking once again to Grace’s side, linking their arms. Grace felt her muscles tense, knowing it wouldn't signal anything out of the ordinary to their kids, but on the inside, everything already felt so different. “And you can pay for it too, while you're at it.”

“Good luck with that,” Brianna stopped swinging, picking her purse up off the floor. “Come on guys. Let them live in their bubble until it pops. We clearly don't know anything, so why bother.”

“Don't be such a Bitter Nancy, Brianna,” Grace chirped. “You should be proud of us. I doubt when you're in your seventies you’ll want your kids calling the shots. Or whoever’s still in your life by then.”

“Nice, mom.”

“Bitter Betty,” Frankie whispered, leaning in awfully close, lips practically grazing Grace’s ear. “It's Negative Nancy, Bitter Betty. But props, anyway. It was still a solid burn.”

“Goodbye, you two,” Bud groaned, shuttling the others out the door. “Have fun packing. Let us know when you're ready to get serious, then we’ll talk.”

“Goodbye,” Grace waved with no lack of sass, feeling sort of awful about what she'd said to Brianna, but there were too many other things to think about. Great things. Scary things. Like the way Frankie was still hanging onto her arm, the way her frigid fingers clung to the inside of her bicep, like she wasn't so much leaning on Grace for strength, but adding to it, pouring fuel on the fire.

Grace turned to face her, and Frankie blinked a little bashfully, then chuckled with pride, riding the high of another successful takedown.

“I thought they'd never leave,” Grace smirked. She squeezed Frankie’s shoulders, kissing her forehead, then her cheek, nuzzling her ear as Frankie shied away a bit, to her surprise.

“How'd it really go with Nick?” she asked, looping her arms around Grace’s back. “Was it hard?”

“Not that hard,” Grace rolled her eyes. “Harder than I thought. But not very hard, no.”

“He is a good man,” Frankie mused. “And good looking. Did he kiss you?”

“No,” Grace reported, voice lilting up against her will. “No, I kissed him on the cheek. After he asked me. But that was it.”

“Ah,” Frankie nodded, pulling back another half an inch. “So he took it alright then?”

“I think so. As well as could be expected. Listen, I'm just so happy to be moving on,” Grace brought her hands to Frankie’s cheeks. “We can put this whole thing behind us now.”

“Yeah,” Frankie swallowed, finally letting go, pacing through the living room towards the open patio.

 _Shit_ , Grace’s heart sank.  _Was that too honest?_

She was so used to them sharing everything. She'd gotten better at it over time, especially in the last few months. When Nick went to Japan, Grace did miss him at first. She found herself talking to Frankie about it a little when prompted. But then, there were days she almost forgot he existed. His feelings about her life didn't really count, not in the grand scheme of things, not enough to affect her decisions. Frankie was always digging, always wanting to know the details, always trying to find a way to involve herself, propose a new business idea, email him without asking Grace if she should.

Grace realized it must have been some kind of self-preservation mode, some sort of “If you can't beat him, join him,” move on Frankie’s part, at least subconsciously. But now, Frankie had to know how much more their relationship meant, that it had always come first, that it went so much deeper than anything she'd ever felt for Nick. He was only a distraction. A healthy, good distraction, but it was over now. This was where the rest of their lives began.

“What's wrong?” Grace had to ask, meeting her out on the wooden dock, keeping her distance.

“It's just a lot, is all,” Frankie sighed, skipping a rock across the water, but not giving it her usual oomph.

“What is?” Grace asked again, embarrassed by how her voice quivered.

“Everything,” Frankie swallowed. “I don't want to make a U Haul lesbian joke, but it sort of feels appropriate given...”

“Then _don't_ ,” Grace snapped. “I don't know why you would. I'm not a lesbian.”

“You're not?”

“No!” Grace whispered loudly. “God, what is this? I thought we were good with leaving things unspecified.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I need a little specificity in my life,” Frankie shrugged. “I mean, just a tad. Just enough to know this isn't some late in life crisis, and before you know it you’ll be running back to Nick once you realize you're stuck with me.”

“Stuck with you?” Grace gaped. “ _Stuck with you_? Frankie...I choose you! I don't know what else you want me to say? Do I need to rent an airplane and write it in the sky for you? Or a hot air balloon? Because I've already done that, if you haven't forgotten.”

“I just think we need a little time,” Frankie repeated. “To make sure we're not rushing into anything out of fear.”

“Is that what you think we're doing?” Grace flailed, moving closer, aware they were having this conversation out in the open, but she couldn't help that now. “Because I am scared! I'm fucking terrified. Yesterday you and I were just friends and now...now I don't know what's happening, but I'm running _towards_ the fear. I'm running towards you! And now you're running away again? That's fucking fantastic.”

“I'm not running away!” Frankie turned towards her, shushing. “Settle down.”

“Don't tell me what to do,” Grace huffed, practically hyperventilating as she backed up, crawling out of her skin. “I can't believe this.”

“Honey, listen. Listen to me, please? Please!” she took Grace’s hand, pulling her down into their chairs. “I'm not running away again. Look, I, Frankie Bergstein, swear on all my crystals and precious handmade icons to the goddess that I am in this till the end, forever. And every day before that. I meant every word of what I said last night. No backsies. All I'm saying is…take a second, for yourself. Think about what it is you really want, about what this means for you, for our family. Who are you, Grace Hanson? If you don't know, how are we supposed to handle what comes next?”

“Are you saying you've got it all figured out?”

“I do,” Frankie claimed. “Well, some of it anyway. I spent a lot of time reflecting when I was away, and earlier, when you were gone. The fact is, I've always been open. I might have lived my life as straight all these years, but I've never been in doubt that I could fall for a woman, especially if Sol wasn't in the picture. And then you came along...and it was clear I could see myself with you, almost right away. Even when you drove me crazy. Sometimes...sometimes because you drove me crazy. I never needed Jacob. I only wanted him because you had someone. But honey...you're it. You've been it for quite some time. I don't know how to make it any clearer than that.”

“You're it too,” Grace breathed, wiping at her eyes, stunned by the truth Frankie was sharing. “I told Nick as much.”

“You did?”

“Well, I didn't say it just like that, but close to it,” she sniffed. “The closest I've ever come. And you're right, it is scary, but I...I'm ready. I want so badly to be ready.”

“I know, sugarplum,” Frankie leaned forward, cradling her face. “Let's just take a few days before we go any further. Until we're back in our house, where we belong, where we feel the most like us. And then, I'll be ready to listen to whatever you're ready to say. And we’ll write the next chapter of our lives together. Sound good?”

Grace felt like the world was spinning. She'd barely taken stock of how huge this was. It was like Frankie had opened the door, and she'd stepped right in, afraid to look back, afraid to acknowledge all the mistakes she'd made, all the time she'd wasted. She wondered if it was like this for Robert, if he'd had this feeling of waking up from a dream when he first kissed Sol. If he began replaying and questioning every other part of his life like scenes from a movie, dissecting the nuance, reading into the subtext, realizing what had been there all along.

“Yeah,” she nodded slowly, closing her eyes again at the feeling of Frankie’s fingers chasing a tear down her cheek. “Yes, I think you're right. I think that's a good idea.”

“I know,” Frankie smiled keenly. “That's why I thought of it.”

“Right,” Grace laughed, sitting up taller, wiping at her own soggy eyelids. “So I guess...I guess that means I'll be sleeping in my own room tonight then?”

“I think that makes the most sense,” Frankie swallowed. “Given what tends to happen otherwise. Last night made me ecstatic, and this morning. But I need us both to be at our best for whatever cosmic explosion is bound to happen when...well...I don't want to jump ahead. We’ll just have to see where the spirit takes us.”

Grace tried not to let her mind wander too far down that road either. Kissing her best friend was one thing, but it felt practically chaste compared to all the other things she'd been curious about, the things she only let herself imagine every so often, when she was busy beneath her own sheets, trying to make herself feel like she was twenty again, or even forty.

But those weren't really the best years of her life. The best time, crazy as it may sound, was now. Nothing compared to this, the excitement of starting over, building a life with the person who got her in all the ways others had failed. Or maybe it was she who had failed them, for not being real about who she really was, about what she needed. That's why Frankie’s proposition, her patience, her own need to wait, was such a gift. Even if it meant a few days sleeping down the hall, wishing she was curled up next to her, aching in places she could only begin to admit she longed to be touched.

“Okay,” Grace agreed. “I guess I can manage that.”

“We have a lot to get done in the meantime. Maybe Arlene can give us a hand with the packing. I'd rather her be in our hair than the kids.”

“Agreed,” Grace sighed as she stood. “Well I...I guess I’ll let you be then.”

“Why?” Frankie frowned. “Don't be silly. We don't have to be strangers. Come, sit back down and enjoy this nice weather with me.”

“It's always nice,” Grace laughed, rolling her eyes. “It's San Diego.”

“Yeah, and you should be thankful you never have to experience the oppressive, snake-infested heat of a place like Santa Fe. We're so lucky to be exactly where we are in this moment. Even in this shitpile for old folks.”

“I guess you're right,” Grace smiled, reclaiming her seat, heart clenching when Frankie reached out and took her hand again, like nothing had changed. “Thanks, Frances.”

“Mmm. You're welcome, Kevin.”

“We've gotta come up with something better than that.”

“Well, maybe that's what I'll spend my time thinking about over the next few days,” Frankie wriggled her eyebrows. “And some other things.”

“Shush, you,” Grace swatted her. “Otherwise I'll be forced to go back inside.”

“Alright,” Frankie squeezed her hand. “Don't worry. I'll behave myself.”

Grace chewed the inside of her lip, humming with nerves and giddiness as they sat there, looking out over the water, feeling a lot like she was in her twenties again, only so much better.

* * *

The days were never slower. Tuesday crept into Wednesday, and once Thursday rolled around, Frankie was driving Grace more than a little batshit with her coping mechanisms. They included drumming on all the boxes they'd packed up so far, painting them with beautiful murals that were sure to appear as new wall art rather than in the trash where they belonged, and cooking up some truly stomach-churning concoctions in their tiny kitchen. Grace finally suggested she take Bud up on a visit with Faith. Frankie had been resisting ever since the Mexico-Ice cream truck incident, still hurt over the fact that those visits now had to be supervised, but Grace argued it was better than nothing. Frankie was so horrified by the idea that Faith might forget who she was, she almost left one clog in the hallway before sprinting out the door.

Thankful for the peace and quiet, Grace felt like she could accomplish much more on her own. She finished packing up the bathroom, her room, and her portion of the kitchen before figuring she should check on Frankie’s progress. She crept into the cramped, completely overstuffed space, filled to the brim with everything that would fit inside a moving truck plus whatever Frankie could carry strapped to her chest. There were plenty of macramé handbags and hangers for plants, a box labeled “Do Not Touch (Unless You're Providing the Kush)” that was clearly weed paraphernalia, and more peasant skirts and chunky jewelry than one hippie needed in a lifetime.

Grace took stock of it all, only mildly frustrated by how much work there was left to do. She sat on the bed, running her fingers through the ribbons of a dreamcatcher, smiling as she picked up a potato with a little face carved into it named Andre. This wasn't the first time Grace had snooped. She would go into the studio every other day or so after Frankie left for Santa Fe, just sit and stare and take in what remained, until the tears slowly came, and she was left weeping, curled up in the extra hammock Frankie had left behind. Then Sheree moved in and got her to stop that ritual. Nick turned up, and Grace started to move on from the pain and regret of letting the best thing that ever happened to her walk away like it was fine, like it was just something a friend should understand and get over, not completely let destroy her.

She stood, giving up on trying to make sense of Frankie’s sorting system, figuring she should trust her to do it herself. On the way out, she passed on open box filled with white envelopes and loose leaf paper, the kind grade school kids used to write theme essays. She noticed most of the envelopes were sealed, some even had stamps on them.

 _Christ_ , Grace sighed to herself, worried they might be unpaid bills that never made it to the mailbox. She carefully lifted the corner of one, not wanting to violate Frankie’s privacy, but also wanting to help if she could. Looking was the responsible thing to do.

Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw her own name and address on the envelope, then on another, then another. She flipped through them one by one, realizing quickly that they were all addressed to her. Her pulse began to race, and she searched on autopilot until she found one that wasn't sealed. _It can't be wrong if it has my name on it_ , Grace swallowed, knowing that argument wouldn't hold up with most people. But she also knew Frankie, the queen of snooping, wouldn't be able to resist such a scenario if the shoe was on the other foot. Surely she'd understand.

She sat on the bed again, slowly removing the sheet of loose leaf from the envelope. She took a deep breath, turned it over, and began to read.

_Dear Grace,_

_Can you believe I've never written a love letter in all my years of poetic pining? It's true. Sol and I tended to tell each other how we felt so often, there was no need for letters. Well, you've inspired me, Grace Hanson. Your penchant for silence when it comes to difficult emotions has me rising to the occasion, that and the distance. Now I've written nearly fifty, and I still don't know what the hell I should say._

_Do I tell you that Santa Fe isn't all it’s cracked up to be? Or that Jacob and I aren't even getting along very well these days? Something’s changed between us. Maybe it's him, maybe it's me. It's definitely me, though maybe some of it's him too. He doesn't even like it when I play my specially tuned garden wind chimes that are supposed to encourage tomato growth. Oh boy, I'm getting off track. Bear with me. Again, I'm new at this._

_Do I tell you that I miss everything about you and I living together? That I think of you every morning while I eat my huevos rancheros, wondering if you're eating anything at all, if you've at least had half a grapefruit and a handful of granola like you always claim. I wonder if you're sitting at the table working already, wearing something way too dressy for a home office, but absolutely perfect for a corporate takedown, or a business owner who's smart and savvy and knows exactly what she's doing. Most days, I don't have a clue what I'm doing, but you already know that. Still, I wish I was there putting in my two cents, showing you that I'm willing to do what it takes to hold up my end of the deal._

_I guess what I miss most is sitting next to you on the couch watching our shows in the evening, you sitting close enough that I can feel the heat coming off you when you steal the remote, but not too close. Never too close. Unless I've convinced you to give American Horror Story another try, and we both end up practically in each other's laps before one of us is forced to peek from beneath the blanket to shut it off._

_I miss your laugh. I know people say I have a memorable laugh, but yours is just as memorable. I think it's even more precious because of what it takes to earn it. I miss your smile, and your eyes, the way they sparkle when you've got a really good idea, or when you forget to worry about being productive and just let go with me for a little while. I miss all the notes we we used to leave each other, reminders, pep talks on post-its, all the ways you made me feel good and strong and safe again after the stroke, without pushing me too much. I should have been more grateful. I am now, believe me._

_This is all more than I should be writing in a letter while my boyfriend sits across the room, but he doesn't ask as much about what I'm doing or thinking these days, and that's a good thing, because you're mostly what I think about. I don't know why I came here anymore, not exactly, but I do know exactly why I’d leave. If I thought there was any chance you'd still be waiting for me back in La Jolla in that blue and white striped shirt and your glasses hanging around your neck, that you haven't moved on with some idiot, that we could forget any of this leaving business ever happened, I'd hop on the first train out of this desert. Would you welcome me home without asking too many questions? Would you accept me again, forget about this mess, and we could go on pretending we're still looking for something else to complete our lives, when really, we already have everything we need so long as we have each other?_

_Okay, that's it for now. I know I'm ending this abruptly, but I'm afraid I'll stain the paper with my tears, and it would cost another eight bucks and change to get to CVS, and another dollar for more loose leaf. But that's okay. You're worth it._

_Take care, Kevin. See you soon. Not soon enough._

_Sincerely,_

_Frankie Bergstein aka Frances aka Mother of Snapdragons aka PajamaMama420 on Twitch_

Grace realized she'd been holding her breath for way longer than was healthy. She let it out in spurts, pressing the letter to her stomach, swallowing as her skin began return to a somewhat normal temperature, eyes continuing to sting. She folded the note, put it back in its envelope, packed up the box again, and placed it where she found it before shutting the door. She went on packing, heart full and nerves shot into overdrive, wondering what else might be in those letters. She tried to focus on anything else, even after Frankie came home, acting like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, save for Frankie’s story about Faith speaking in code with her burps about wanting to escape.

But when Grace went to bed that night, she continued to play the words she’d read over and over again in her head. She buried herself deep beneath the covers, holding her own body until she fell asleep, dreaming of tomorrow, when they'd be back in their own house, hoping by then she too would know exactly what to say.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kind words about this fic. Sorry it's taken me so long to complete it. I had a lot of (very good) things going on, but was determined to see this through. Hope you like the conclusion, and please note that the rating has been changed to E.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Enjoy, and if you feel so inclined, please feel free to leave a comment (:

It amazed Grace just how much “stuff” two women could accumulate while getting on with the business of living. Even more amazing was how little most of it meant at the end of the day, how ready she was to leave it all behind and begin again, so long as Frankie was by her side.

Grace had already learned the lesson of downsizing a few times. The first was when she told her parents she was moving out West with Robert. They weren’t at all happy, but she promised them she knew what she was doing. She returned home from college one afternoon to clean out the room she grew up in, only to find most of her things had already been thrown away. The rest was neatly packaged in crisp white boxes set on the living room sofa, the one still covered in plastic like it had come from a museum. She picked up the boxes and carried them out to the car herself, feeling so much like a hotel guest who had stopped by one last time before check out.

The second time she realized how little she cared about “stuff,” despite what anyone else might think, was when Robert sold their house and moved into the one he now lived in with Sol. Before that milestone, she'd clung to her possessions for years, maybe because it often felt like they were the only things she had to tell the story of who she was. But by the time he put the house on the market, she was long over the divorce. She'd let go of every petty squabble about dishes and knick knacks she couldn't remember buying in the first place. None of it had ever made her feel good or loved. Accomplished, maybe. Rich, certainly, but never happy.

The moment she realized it had all changed, a moment among many moments, was when Robert asked if she wanted to keep any of their old furniture, and she said no without batting so much as an eyelash. None of their “stuff” fit into her life as it now stood. The thought of Frankie trading in their worn, salt and sun soaked furniture for the cold, gray silk of what she'd left behind was almost too depressing to think about. How she'd lived like that, how she or Robert did for so many years, she couldn't begin to fathom. But she'd done it. And now, thankfully, that was history.

This time, when she and Frankie were forced from the beach house, the things she felt they needed to keep were much easier to identify and far fewer than expected. Everything that didn't serve a purpose or bring them joy was junk, and the quicker they let go of it, the easier it would be to move on. So long as they had each other, nothing else really mattered.

Moving back in was a lot like that. They had their house again by some miracle, a miracle whose name, like it or not, was Nick. They’d regained their freedom in the composition of those walls, in the empty space between them. All else was superfluous. They'd fill the space with something new, something no one would be able to see or touch, much less take away.

The kids were there bright and early to help out. Mallory had called every day since their last blow out, the guilt eventually trickling down to the rest. Now Grace’s youngest stood in the middle of the remodeled cobalt cabinets, managing the action like it would make up for all she and her siblings had disrupted. She appeared to enjoy calling the shots, bossing around the others in a way that both surprised Grace and made her proud.

Slowly, the rooms began to fill in again. It was almost like time had been reset. Grace worried what that might mean for her and Frankie. Would they slip back into old patterns, not having to run into each other as much as they did in the small space of their condo? _No_ , Grace chased the thought away. They'd always made the beach house feel smaller than it was. Frankie would still be her shadow, only this time, Grace wouldn’t dare take it for granted.

“You sure you want your bed in mom’s meditation room?” Coyote questioned, huffing as he hiked the mattress up on his back. “How does mom feel about...”

“Great!” Frankie whisked through the back door. “She can sleep wherever she wants. Well, not ‘wherever.’ I guess there are a few places I'd prefer not…”

“Thank you, boys!” Grace cut her off, ushering Bud all the way inside with the tail end of her California King.

There probably wouldn't be room for anything other than the bed, but that was just as well. All a bedroom really needed was a bed. For sleeping. For reading when one couldn't sleep. For dreaming about all the ways two people might use a meditation room together now that it was a bedroom, with one bed, conveniently located on the first floor.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Grace took one of the bags Frankie was juggling, lightening her load. They stole a warm glance at each other as they made their way down the hall towards the den.

“That was sweet,” Coyote whispered, dropping his end of the mattress, sending Bud shuffling back into the opposite wall.

“It was,” Bud grunted, eyebrows twitching.

“I'm sure there’s some motive,” Brianna joined them, swatting at the wind chimes still hanging in her wake. “Look, she’s already taking up more space than before. Next thing you know she’ll be turning the studio into some B&B for homeless women entrepreneurs.”

“Mom would probably love that,” Coyote grinned. “They could serve pancakes every day.”

“Oh, and she could teach them how to yodel to relieve stress,” Bud pointed out.

“Yes, all while Grace Hanson smashes their dreams and tells them they don't actually have what it takes to succeed,” Brianna sucked in the air between her teeth. “Sorry, it's a little raw with me.”

“Why don't you two finish up in here,” Bud maneuvered his escape. “Sounds like Mallory could use a break in the kitchen.”

“Fine. I'll make sure Coyote doesn't scratch the floor while he puts together the bed frame,” Brianna leaned back against the wall, supervising Coyote as he pulled the pieces from a box, eagerly laying them out in front of him like a very entertaining puzzle.

* * *

“Honestly, why do you two need a house this size?” Bud inquired gently of his mother, helping her stock the kitchen drawers with flatware. “I would have thought a smaller space would have been a relief. Not to mention, less carbon footprint, am I right?”

“Honey, it’s not the _amount_ of space that matters,” Frankie shook her head. “Well, for greening purposes, yes, I guess it does. But I've done my part. It's the memories. It's the spirit that’s alive in these walls, everything Grace and I create here together. I know it's a lot of work, but it means everything to us. You and Allison haven't developed that kind of energy vortex yet, but just you wait. Leaving your tiny apartment might be harder than you think one day, whenever you decide to leave, or maybe you’ll stay. All I know is, we aren't as incapable of keeping this place up as everyone thinks. We can do it, and we will. And when we can't, which I truly don't foresee ever happening with her level of fitness and my sheer will, then we’ll ask for help if and when we need it. We're privileged enough to be able to pay people to help us maintain the life we want. Not everyone's so lucky. Why shouldn't we go for it?”

“You make a good point,” Bud sighed, biting his lip nervously. “A lot of great points, actually. I wish you weren't so damn good at appealing to the sappier side of my logic scale, but I guess you wouldn't be you then, would you?”

“And what a crime against humanity that would be,” Frankie smiled with her eyes, kissing his face before patting his shoulder and heading back to the living room.

* * *

After a while, the house grew quiet. Mallory pulled Brianna from the adult coloring book she'd found, or what she was calling “her contribution.” They said their goodbyes, leaving their mothers to their own devices.

Grace hadn't seen much of Frankie that morning. They were too busy trying to make the process go by faster, both a little too exhausted after the first hour or so to continue flirting. Even then, things had cooled significantly since earlier in the week, when they'd made promises to each other Grace wasn't sure now Frankie intended to keep.

Doubt crept in where anticipation and fearlessness had left off. She was supposed to have been thinking. That's what Frankie asked her to do. That was the gift she tried to give Grace, and it had worked to some degree. Grace did think, every minute of every day and night, especially when she was alone. She thought about how much she wanted this, how ready she was to admit at least that much. She thought about what a long time coming it was, much longer than Frankie or anyone else surely realized. She thought about the future they might have if all went as planned, if what she had to say was enough for Frankie to want to keep moving forward, sans net, sans giving a shit what anyone else might think.

That part was new for Grace, but then again, she'd had practice over the past few years. She was already used to the looks she got when people heard she and Frankie were still living together, let alone that they were making and selling vibrators. _Come to think of it_ , Grace told herself, _people might actually be expecting this._ But naming it, giving flesh and weight to the thoughts and feelings and words she hadn't known how much she needed to say, was altogether different. It was time.

Still, she stood at the kitchen sink, listening to the water run over her cold hands as she washed the few dishes they'd already used that morning when the house was full. She let the doubt seep back in, the what ifs. What if Frankie really was just scared the other night? What if it had been some whim, meant as a fun distraction from the very real threat they'd endured of losing the home they both so clearly loved?

But Frankie had given it up _for her_. That had to mean…

Nothing was certain. Maybe Frankie had done a lot of her own thinking since she wrote those letters and hid them in a shoe box, never to be seen or sent to their intended recipient. After all, she never did mail them. After all, she was somewhere in this house right now, continuing to stall, continuing to give Grace the space she thought she needed. They were alone and they had their whole lives ahead of them to do whatever they liked, and Frankie was nowhere to be found. What could that possibly mean?

Grace didn't know what she expected to happen after the kids left, but she certainly didn't expect to be standing over the sink trying not to sob, biting her lip so hard to keep those tears as disciplined and at bay as she possibly could. She’d get through this, whatever might lie ahead. She could go back to the way things were, if that's what…

Hands.

Her lungs expelled all her breath, an exasperated sound fleeing past her lips as she closed her eyes, giving in to the feeling of Frankie’s hands wrapping around her waist, a long, warm body pressing up against her back, the familiar chin settling into the crook of her shoulder. Grace dropped the sponge into the soapy sink, let her palms rest against the linoleum, and tried to let every ounce of doubt she'd been feeling drip away, until it circled the drain with the rest of the murky water.

“I’m sorry,” Frankie’s voice was soft and a little shaky. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” Grace assured, bringing one wet hand to her stomach, gently gripping Frankie’s clasped hands before she could remove them. “No, I…”

“I'm sorry I've been so distant,” Frankie exhaled. “I just wanted to let the dust settle before we tried to dive back into more important things.”

“Ah,” Grace nodded, grabbing a towel off the counter, drying her hands as she slowly turned her body, facing Frankie, trying not to get too caught up in their proximity, or the way Frankie’s gray t-shirt beneath her red and black kimono barely hid the fact that she'd eschewed wearing a bra today. “And now? What do you...do you think it's…”

Frankie grabbed the towel from her hands, threw it on the counter behind them, and pulled Grace’s lips firmly into her own. Grace let out another sharp, desperate gasp of relief as she draped her arms behind Frankie’s neck, kissing her back, taken by how Frankie was pinning them against the sink with her hips, mouth moving tenderly, fingers splayed across Grace’s flushed cheeks. Grace slid her hands down Frankie’s arms, then up into her wild hair, digging into the nest she’d made, letting it unfurl as their lips slipped open, inviting each other in, welcoming each other home.

“Oh god,” Grace panted, eyelids fluttering as Frankie kissed her way down her neck. “I thought...I'm so glad you didn't change your mind.”

“Are you kidding?” Frankie pulled back, keeping her hands firmly melded to Grace’s hip bones. “I couldn't wait for this. I mean, I guess I could. I had to. For both our sakes. And even now, we don't have to do anything you aren't ready to…”

“ _I am_ ,” Grace pleaded, voice aching more than she intended, as if it were coming straight from between her thighs. “But I...you did say you wanted me to think, and I have. I have something I...I need to share with you, before we…”

“Anything,” Frankie pulled away a little more, much to Grace’s frustration, though she took her hands and squeezed them tight, swinging them back and forth between them in their beautiful kitchen. “Whatever you need. I'm all ears.”

“Okay,” Grace swallowed, goosebumps prickling every pore, stomach turning in on itself, the way it did in the very first speech class she took back in Connecticut. “Well, I...here…”

She led Frankie across the house, encouraging her to sit on one of their blue sofas. Then she turned her attention to the pile of boxes stacked near the coffee table, searching until she found the one she'd been sure to keep track of all day, moving it from the studio earlier that morning, slipping it beneath some other nondescript  boxes she knew Frankie wouldn't try to move.

“Oh my god,” Frankie brought her hand to her chest, eyes going wide. “Where did you…”

“Now, don't get upset. Or if you do, please, try to forgive me, because I only read one. It had my name on it, and I…”

“I'm not upset,” Frankie crossed her arms. “I'm just a little disappointed I didn't get to pick which one you read. Was it the 'Grace, my heart burns for you like a bag of flaming hot cheetos' version, or something else?”

“Uh...no. No, I don't think that was it. But it was beautiful.”

“Oh darn,” Frankie snapped her fingers. “That was the best one. But oh well. Lord knows if I stumbled upon a box of letters addressed to myself, nothing could have kept me from tearing open each and every one. You've got some willpower, lady. I like it.”

“So you're not mad at all? Really?”

“Why should I be?” Frankie shrugged. “It's not like I hid them very well. They could have been bills, for all you knew.”

“Wow,” Grace shifted her feet, laughing a little as she lowered the box onto the table. “You know me so well. It's almost as if you really do like me or something.”

“Uh huh,” Frankie smirked. “Quit being so cute and so coy. What are you up to, Grace Hanson? Why did you bring these out?”

“Well,” Grace took another deep, self-soothing breath, and then reached into her tight back pocket, pulling out the folded, slightly crumpled paper she'd been storing there since she wrote it at five a.m. “I figured out what I wanted to say. With a letter of my own.”

Frankie’s lips parted. Her eyes began to gleam, crowning with all the emotion Grace was hoping for, maybe even a little more. Frankie kept her eyes glued to Grace as she sat, curling her bare feet beneath her, and then, Grace handed over the letter.

“Oh no, please,” Frankie pushed it back. “Will you read it to me?”

“Only if you promise not to fall asleep,” Grace glared.

“I could never,” Frankie smiled sheepishly.

“Good,” Grace sighed, jaw still tight with anxiety as she inched closer. “Can I…can I hold your hand, please?”

“Of course, honey,” Frankie took it in her lap, sheltering it like it was the dearest, most precious gesture in the entire world.

Grace felt like an invisible spotlight was shining on her. She swallowed back her remaining fear, unfolded the letter, and began to read before she chickened out.

“Dear Frankie,

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to put down in words just how much you mean to me. I didn't have to find the right words for nearly forty years, even longer than that. No one cared enough to hear them, and I...I didn't care enough to try. But with you...you're the most gorgeous communicator I've ever known. Even when you're yodeling. Even when you're speaking some language I'm sure you’ve made up, or crooning lyrics I'm positive will get us kicked out of Trader Joe’s. So I have to get this right. You deserve it, and so much more.”

Frankie was already sniffling. Grace squeezed her hand, but refused to look up from the letter, lest she wouldn't be able to finish.

“You're my best friend, the best friend I’ve ever had. The truth is, I did have another friend once, a long time ago, who made me realize maybe there were some friendships between women that weren't really friendships at all. But nothing happened then, because I wasn't ready. Because she wasn't the one.

You're the one. You're the only person whose ever made me feel like I could dance on a bar and not give a rat’s ass what people thought. You’re the person who can convince me to break into other people’s houses, or fly higher than I ever thought I could, hot air balloon or no hot air balloon. You're the person...the person who makes me feel like I can do anything, be anything, or just be myself, finally, after all these years.

It's because you're you. The sun has nothing on you, Frankie Bergstein. You shine brighter than all the stars, all the planets, brighter than any diamond I've ever seen—and that's not a Rihanna reference, just so you know, but I thought you'd be impressed I made the connection. You’re the most fascinating, most mesmerizing, most incredible woman alive. And yes, sometimes most infuriating. In little ways, like insisting you're a vegan even though cheese should really be your middle name, and in big ways, like how infuriating it was when you left. I was so mad then, and I channeled all that hurt and brokenness into making it look like I'd moved on, when the truth is, I could never. Because I've never had a best friend like you, Frankie. There's no replacing you.

Because you're not just a friend. You're the woman who makes me feel like I can climb mountains even though I don't have any good knees left. You're the person whose made me laugh so hard so many times, I'm sure you’ve added years to my life. You're...you're the woman I've fallen madly, deeply in love with. Yes, you, Frankie Bergstein, aka Frances, aka Mother of Bud and Coyote, aka the greatest blessing I've ever received.

I love you so very much, and I'm ready to be my whole self alongside your whole self, if you're ready too.

Yours,

Grace”

She finally looked up, not at all surprised to see Frankie’s cheeks streamed with tears, dripping from her chin as she sniffed, furiously wiping at them with the sleeves of her kimono.

“That was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard,” Frankie graveled. “It was perfect. Honey, you did so good.”

“I did?” Grace melted.

“Oh yes. Big, giant kudos to you, Grace Hanson, Queen of Romance. And all the kisses that hot little mouth of yours desires. From now until forever.”

“I...thank you,” Grace found herself stuck on the word _hot_. “I um...do you have any questions for me, about any of that or…”

“Some,” Frankie nodded. “But I don't need all the answers right away, not unless you want to give them to me. You've given enough for today, really. I'm so friggin’ proud of you. I didn't think I could love you any more than I already did, and there you go, proving me wrong. I don't think I've ever been so happy to be wrong in my whole life. I love you, Grace. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too,” Grace shivered, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes. She pulled Frankie in, kissing her again, practically crawling into her lap.

This time, it felt like there would be no retreat, no pause, no running from what they both knew was inevitable. Frankie’s full, ripe lips began the work of devouring her, and before Grace knew it, they'd floated from the sofa to the bed. Frankie fell onto the mattress, in the room that was once all her own, her territory in a house that otherwise felt much more like Grace’s domain.

Grace vowed to herself never to partition their space like that again. It was theirs. All of it. Sure, Frankie would still rule the studio. Grace would probably reserve some quiet nook for reading, or getting work done when she needed to be alone with her thoughts. They'd maintain their individual worlds, but they'd be equals in this place, starting right here, in this new meditation/bedroom, the perfect blend of two people who were always destined to be together in every square inch of the life they’d chosen.

Frankie’s hands were busy with the buttons of Grace’s shirt, all while Grace smoothed her fingers over every soft, riveting curve of Frankie’s neck. Her knees were killing her, straddling Frankie’s waist as she was, but she didn't dare move. The pain would have to stuff itself way back in her brain, behind the thrill of her hips rocking, meeting the motion of Frankie’s as they lifted ever so slightly off the bed with every stroke.

“Fra...Frankie…” Grace managed, sitting up straight, realizing her shirt had fallen open, the black bra she'd worn revealing itself, making her blush as Frankie’s eyes ate it up hungrily. “Are you...is this okay?”

“Yes,” Frankie choked, licking her lips. “How could it not be?”

“I mean...all that talk about you wanting me to do stuff to you...you really meant it, right?”

“Of course I did,” Frankie’s brow furrowed, hands slipping over the somewhat tight, somewhat loose skin of Grace’s stomach, rendering Grace equal parts mortified and deliriously turned on.

“And you…” Grace stuttered. “Do you think…now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you really sure?” Grace stilled her hands. “Because I know it usually takes a while for you to feel comfortable. To feel safe.”

“Not with you it doesn't,” Frankie shook her head, reaching for Grace’s cheek, pulling her in. “We've been getting comfortable for years, you and I. Decades. I've never felt safer with anyone, especially after what you just read. That's all I needed. I know the love is there. I know you've got me.”

“I do,” Grace breathed, never feeling more thankful for beating back her demons, for taking a chance, and surviving. “I've got you now.”

Frankie pulled their bodies flush, and Grace marveled at how strong and eager she was, allowing herself to be stripped of her striped, collared shirt. Frankie wrestled between looking and feeling, kissing and caressing her way down Grace’s chest with her mouth, up her torso with her hands. Grace kept rocking their hips, getting some relief from the way the denim of her jeans scraped against her throbbing center, but it wasn't nearly enough. Still, she couldn't bring herself to ask for more. She wanted Frankie to ask for it, wanted to give her what she'd so bravely vocalized for the both of them.

“Can I take this off?” Frankie finally spoke, and Grace nodded, helping her slide the straps of the black lace down her skinny arms, letting Frankie undo the clasp, until it fell aside. Grace shook out her feathered hair, sitting up tall, swallowing her own self-flagellations, letting Frankie see her as she let herself be seen.

“Good effing Christ,” Frankie sputtered. “You are stunning as hell. Really.”

“Thank you,” Grace blinked, smirking despite herself. “Can I…”

“Oh sure. Here.”

Frankie scooted back until she was sitting across from Grace on the mattress, and Grace almost cried at the loss of contact. But then Frankie was letting her kimono fall off behind her, guiding Grace’s hands to the hem of her vintage Styx t-shirt, leaving them there to do the rest.

“Go ahead,” she whispered, leaning forward, nuzzling Grace’s ear, a lock of hair falling loose, tickling her neck. “Undress me.”

Grace didn't hesitate more than a second before pulling the dull cotton over Frankie’s tangled mane, bringing the sensible beads she'd worn over her head with her. Frankie was left sitting cross-legged in pooled palazzos, silver-brown tresses cast down her shoulders. Her breasts hung freely against lily white skin, like they'd given gravity a good fight, like they were still fighting, even if they were on the losing side. But they were still full, nipples tight and deliciously mauve, just as lovely as they were all those years ago when Frankie had flashed her, and Grace pretended not to care.

“Wow,” Grace breathed through her nose. “You're...you're exquisite. Truly. A living, breathing goddess.”

“Stop it,” Frankie bit her lip. “But really. Don't.”

“May I?”

“Please.”

Seeing was one thing, but Grace never could have prepared for the feeling of Frankie’s breasts in her hands, the way her best friend threw her head back, eyes closed, humming through closed lips as Grace squeezed and kneaded, dipping her mouth to one taut, taunting nipple, sucking it in, letting her tongue trace its geography.

“Fuck…” Frankie hissed, slamming her hands against the mattress. “Oh god…”

“More?”

“Yes. Please god yes.”

Grace continued sucking and stroking, letting her mouth do all the work while her hands traced their way down the slope of Frankie’s warm, soft belly. Their lips found each other again, and they kept on kissing, Grace kneeling, fumbling with the button of her jeans, and Frankie nearly lost it as she looked down between them, watching Grace slide the zipper and peel painted denim down her thighs. Frankie took that as the green light to grab two handfuls of Grace’s ass, digging in with fingernails that were pleasantly sharp, and Grace shimmied the pants the rest of the way down, kicking them off, pulling their bodies together.

Nothing ever felt as good as the meeting of their breasts, the way their hearts beat in sync, the way Frankie held on for dear life, or how thoroughly Grace’s hands buried themselves in Frankie’s thick hair as she kissed her frantically, needing more, needing it now.

Grace brought her fingertips to the hem of Frankie’s palazzos, but somehow stopped on instinct.

“Hold up,” Frankie huffed, sitting back on her heels, as if on cue. “Time out, just a...just a smidge.”

“Are you alright?” Grace grabbed a wool blanket off the floor, near another pile of boxes, handing it to Frankie, letting her cover herself up. “I'm sorry, I…I should have known it was too much too...”

“No, please,” Frankie shook her head. “It isn't that. I just...look, I know I talk a big game, but here we are. Both of us are nearly all the way there, and I...looking at you now, I don't know how I'm supposed to get naked and let you see all of me at once. You're so…and I'm...I know you have your hang ups, but I guess I didn't realize mine would rear their ugly heads as strongly as they appear to be.”

“Are you...are you saying you're afraid I'll _judge_ you?”

“Well,” Frankie looked down at the bed between them. “You have made comments in the past. About how I should join you for yoga. About waxing. About a lot of things. Never as an attack, just...recommendations.”

“Oh my god,” Grace felt the wind knocked out of her sails. “That's _awful_. Frankie, I...I am so sorry. That...that isn't me. Not anymore. Not the person I want to be. I don't care what you do, so long as you're healthy. All I want is for you to feel how much I want you, how beautiful I think you are, because you _are_. You're ridiculously sexy. Gorgeous. All of you.”

“Thank you,” Frankie smiled a bit sadly. “And are you able to extend that same no-shame circle around your own gorgeous self? Do you know how divine your own body is? Are you ready to accept it without exception?”

“I…” Grace couldn't bring herself to say it just yet. “I'm sitting her exposed, aren't I? Clearly I'm…”

“I felt your reaction when I touched your stomach,” Frankie shared. “It's alright. We both have our things. It's  only natural. But...if I'm going to let myself open up...to everything...I need us both to be at peace with our bodies. Or at least try. Can you let me see you, let me touch you, without any of that armor you carry around?”

Grace felt caught. _Of course_ , she burned, _of course she sees right through me_. The confidence wasn't entirely fake, but it was also part of a careful mask, the game she'd played for nearly her whole life, the grand performance. Robert had seen it. And Guy. And Phil. Her method of seduction always involved showing off her best features first, positioning her body in the most flattering ways, hoping they'd breeze past the rest.

Frankie wouldn't stand for that. There would be no skipping over anything, and that was just as well, because Grace wanted this time to be different. As big a deal as sex was for Frankie, this was just as big, just as new for Grace. There could be no shortcuts. Everything had to be laid bare, scars, skin, hangups and all.

Grace sat with herself for a moment, letting that sink in, until she made up her mind about how she could prove she was ready to give it her best shot.

Slowly, she pushed off the bed, standing at the foot of it, taking another long, deep breath as she closed her eyes. She brought both hands to her stomach, pulling at her speckled, slouched skin, and then slid her hands down over each hip, letting her underwear fall around her ankles. She opened her eyes, satisfied with how Frankie was watching, mouth agape. And then, Grace did something she knew might get them kicked out of their house again, but this time, it would be worth it.

“What are you doing?!” Frankie called after her.

Grace stepped out onto the back porch, completely naked, raising her arms in the salty air. She let the evening sun and sand whip against her skin, staring up at the sky, defiant.

“Here I am, universe! Take a good, hard look! I don't give a fuck what you or anyone else thinks of me. I'm going to enjoy my body for what it is, all of it. And Frankie’s too. So there.”

“Grace, get back inside!” Frankie stood in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear, wrapped up in the blanket. “Holy queer mother of Jesus, are you insane?”

“Maybe,” Grace waltzed back in, closing the doors behind her. “Are you convinced yet?”

Frankie stared at her like she'd set her hair on fire. For a moment, Grace worried it was too much, that she'd overestimated, that maybe she really had gone crazy. But then, a laugh burst from Frankie’s lips that sounded like lightning. Her head fell back, and she cackled louder than Grace had ever heard, hopping back and forth on each foot.

“Fuck me, that was brilliant!” Frankie snorted, composing herself. “But also, for the record, the universe doesn't care what you look like, Grace. You really should have been addressing your own ego, in all fairness, but I'll still take it.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Freud,” Grace rolled her eyes, hands planted on smooth hips. “I’m not sure I appreciate the critique. Isn't that what this was all about?”

“Yes, and no,” Frankie stepped closer, swallowing hard as she looked down at Grace, eyes focused on the small, barely there patch of blonde hair between her trembling thighs. “I just needed a minute. Sorry for being all insecure before, but...well, here goes nothing…”

She dropped the blanket to the floor, and Grace followed it with her eyes. Frankie had taken off her pants, and if she had been wearing anything beneath them, she'd taken that off too.

“That was really brave,” Frankie took Grace’s hands, leading them backwards. “And stupid, but mostly brave. And now I need you to touch me, before I scream.”

They fell onto the bed together, limbs tangled, all hands and tongue and teeth. Grace couldn't believe this was happening, every nerve in her body soaring as she let her gaze flit down the length of Frankie’s body, amazed at how she could have ever worried Grace would see anything other than the work of art she was.

“You're _heaven_ ,” Grace murmured against her skin, kissing Frankie’s neck, her pulse, her collarbone, fingers walking their way across the soft hills of her inner thighs. Frankie spread her legs wide, and Grace never felt anything sweeter, more decadent than the slick strip of flesh, the warm welcome of Frankie’s labia, the way her arms clung to Grace’s back, begging breathlessly.

“Please...please, Grace...let me…”

Grace nodded, and she couldn't help but cry out as Frankie’s fingers found her pulsing mound, searching, then landing gently on the swell of her clit.

“Fuck,” Grace huffed. “Oh my...Frankie…”

“Is it okay?”

“Yes. Yes, god please. Keep going.”

“Wait…hold on,” Frankie brought her free hand to Grace’s chin. “This is a sacred moment. I want to remember every second of this, exactly as it's unfolding.”

“Uh huh,” Grace took pains to keep her hand steady. “Just...tell me when…”

“Okay, good. Yes, go...go on.”

Grace wasn't used to all the starting and stopping, the teasing or the talking, but it wasn't bad. Not bad at all, especially not when Frankie was practically crawling up her arm, Grace’s hand palming and stroking. Before Grace knew it, Frankie was shaking so hard, throat undulating beneath waves of hair, eyes tightly shut, then open again so she wouldn't miss anything. Grace felt her own clit go hard beneath Frankie’s fingertips, unable to stop herself, thighs trapping Frankie’s hand as she squeezed them together, then collapsed against the bed, coming so hard she could have sworn the day had suddenly turned to night.

“That's it,” Frankie licked her lips, kissing her ear again and again. “Grace...that was…”

But Grace refused to rest. She propped up on both her elbows, sliding down Frankie’s ivory legs, kissing every freckle, every errant vein, until she was nestled between them. Frankie, bereft of words, spread her hips further, and Grace pushed forward on impulse, holding Frankie’s thighs, until her tongue settled into the thickness, lapping salt and sweat, breathing her in, tasting her.

“Ahh,” Frankie moaned above, writhing against the scratchy, sheetless mattress. “Grace...oh my…”

“Come for me, baby,” Grace whispered, diving back in with more licks, awestruck by her ability to make Frankie feel so good. She flicked her tongue up and down, faster than she ever thought possible, until Frankie’s hands were in her own hair, on Grace’s shoulders, everywhere at once. Grace reached up and took one of them, fingers entwined, and Frankie rocked herself into Grace’s mouth a few more times, gripping her hand so tight, orgasm pouring forth in guttural howls and finally, the sweet, blissful laugh that Grace knew meant she was satisfied.

“Good god...come...come here now,” Frankie exhaled, and Grace slid up her chest, nestling in, kissing Frankie’s cheek as she traced her nails across her stomach, feeling it rise and fall, letting their legs twist together again as they turned to face each other.

“Are you okay?” Grace asked for the hundredth time, needing to make sure, praying to whatever God would listen that this wasn't a mistake.

“Am I okay?” Frankie opened her crystal blue eyes, and the light in them told Grace everything she needed to know. “I think it's safe to say I'll be okay for the rest of my life. And any other life I might have after this one. No matter what else happens. No matter where we go or whatever bullshit comes our way, this, right here...this was everything. Everything.”

“It really was,” Grace sniffed, unable to hold back her tears. “I'm so grateful. I can't believe we…”

“Believe it,” Frankie grabbed her, kissing her nose, her forehead. “I think this house, this room in particular, played an important role in what just transpired. It was like all the visioning and pining and praying I've done conspired to make it more intense. It was supercharged. And I don't have a clue where my geodes are right now, but it doesn't matter. It’s in the walls, Grace. It's already here.”

Grace never would have believed such a thing before today, but right now, she couldn't argue. It felt just like that, word for word.

“So you're saying…” Grace spoke quietly, trying to catch her breath. “The house was like a third party in our lovemaking?”

“Yes, in a way,” Frankie squeezed her shoulder. “Though, for the record, that's the only third party I’ll ever be comfortable allowing between us. Don't think I've forgotten the friend you referenced earlier in your letter. Mama doesn't like to share, if you catch my drift.”

“Oh, for Christ’s...” Grace swatted her gently. “Come on. You know there’s nobody else I...I could never…”

“I know,” Frankie grinned. “I just like teasing. And, I want to hear the full story, whenever you're ready to share it with me.”

“We have all night for that.”

“Mhmm. And every night after that.”

Now it was Grace’s turn to laugh, giddy with the thought of spending the rest of her years curled up in some glorious version of this, body sufficiently wrecked, head and heart beaming with love as she and her best friend laughed the day away, Frankie’s sticky, warm thighs folded between her own.

“We just had _sex_ ,” Grace sighed. “You and me. I, Grace Hanson, and you, Frankie Bergstein, had sex. Sol and Robert’s ex-wives. Had sex, with each other. I had sex with a woman, for crying out loud.”

“Any way you say it, it’s pretty fucking wild, isn't it?”

“It is!” Grace exclaimed, shifting her legs. “Ow...shit.”

“Oh no,” Frankie frowned, propping up on her elbow. “Is it your knee? Did I break you?”

“No...and yes. I think it was a goner way before this. I'm pretty sure I’ll need another replacement, sooner rather than later.”

“Well, alright then,” Frankie nodded matter-of-factly. “Don't you worry. I'll be right here, ready to nurse you back to health. I'll even throw in some extra special attunements I learned from a guy in Santa Fe before I blew that dusty popsicle stand for good. You’ll get through this. We’ll get through it.”

“I know we will,” Grace sniffed, cuddling in closer, letting Frankie pull her against her chest. “I'm not as afraid as I used to be. You know...I don't think I ever told you this. In fact I'm sure I didn't, but...I had a dream once. More like a fantasy I guess, where my life flashed before my eyes. We were at Menchie’s, and I almost slipped. Do you remember that?”

“I do,” Frankie hummed. “I remember everything that goes on at Menchie’s.”

“Right. Well, I had this elaborate fucking daydream about almost dying and needing surgery, and I was so awful to you, but you were right there with me. And I realized then...what a nightmare it would be not to have you by my side. That I’d better figure out how to treat you right if I didn't want to lose you. And it took me...well, it still might take me awhile to figure it all out, but it was a start. Something shifted that day between us.”

“It did,” Frankie agreed, stroking her fingers through Grace’s hair. “I had no idea you were so self aware back then. I thought that was a more recent development.”

“Yeah, well,” Grace swallowed. “I'm working on it. But I guess, what I mean to say is...I'm not so scared anymore. Because I know you're here, and you're not leaving me again. Right? Promise me you won't ever leave.”

“Oh honey, I promise,” Frankie kissed her forehead, once, twice, then again for good measure. “I'll promise till I turn blue in the face if I have to.”

“Don't do that.”

“Okay, fine. But I promise. Just so long as you agree to stay put too.”

“I will,” Grace nodded breathlessly, pushing Frankie’s hair behind one of her cute ears. “Thank you. For making me less scared. For making me feel ready. For all of it.”

“Of course. Listen, don't go acting like you haven't done the same for me. I'm still scared at times. A lot of times. Especially now, when I feel like there's so much more to live for, like getting to see our kids faces when they find out all four of their parents are heterosexually challenged.”

“Oh my god,” Grace sighed, covering her eyes with her hand.

“But you're right. I'm not as scared as I once was. I'll ride this train straight into hell and back, if I believed in hell, which I don't. So I guess that metaphor might not work. Also, there's a good chance I'm dehydrated. But the point is...life's too short to not take chances. When I think about my brother, which I do a lot lately, I think about all the things he never got to experience. I don't want any regrets. I don't want to take any moment of this life for granted. I plan on embracing every second of it, to make the best of this rebirth, even if it is only metaphorical. Because in some ways, it feels like this is just the beginning. I need at least six thousand more afternoons like this, where I'm left musing philosophically in your arms, and you let me, because, spoiler art, you actually love the sound of my voice.”

“And the rest of you,” Grace confirmed.

“So let's never leave then,” Frankie dared. “Let's stay right here. People can come visit us, bring us snacks. They’ll have to get over the nudity, but that's fine. That's their problem, not ours.”

“Right,” Grace laughed, shaking her head. “We’ll stay right here. We can even be buried here together someday, right underneath this house. They’ll have to declare it a national monument.”

“I like the way you're thinking,” Frankie smirked. “Sex makes you sillier. It's beautiful on you.”

Grace swallowed, eyes stinging at just how beautiful it was.

She held Frankie in her arms, kissing her softly. They kept talking, kept laughing, for as long as they could. Because they were home. And there was no place like it.


End file.
